


War of Winter

by Rapidash



Category: Iron Fey Series - Julie Kagawa
Genre: F/M, Faeries - Freeform, Fanfiction, Love, The Iron Fey, War, Winter, fey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 46,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapidash/pseuds/Rapidash
Summary: Crystal has never been one for love. Love is a weakness and, more often than not, can get you killed. Or your family. But when her and her mother, the Duchess of the Black Ice Mountains, are invited to a ball at court, everything changes. Crystal soon finds herself thrust into a world of games, manipulation, and even finds herself unable to stop thinking of a certain Winter prince with piercing blue eyes and a cruel smile. But when war brews on the horizon between Summer and Winter, Crystal must hide away her resentment in order to protect the ones she cares for, even if it means finding it in her heart to love.Disclaimer: The only characters I own are Crystal, the Duchess, horses, Winterbrey, and Snare. All other characters belong to Julie Kagawa, original author of the Iron Fey series.





	1. The Rose

The stag fell just as the hunter’s father had. With an arrow sticking out of its neck and its eyes glazed over with cold, empty death. Crystal, however, did not mind that look. She’d seen it plenty of times on the faces of those she’d decimated.   
Calmly walking up to the stag to inspect it, Crystal thought she saw the last breath leave it full, muscular body. The stag was fairly big – big enough to last her and the Duchess about a month. Her mother should be proud; it had been a while since Crystal had brought home a deer such as this.   
Crystal quickly pulled out the arrow, placing it back in its quiver. She then whistled to Snowstorm, one of the larger warhorses in their stables. Crystal had chosen not to take her own horse, Blackbird, for this purpose exactly; Blackbird was strong but it would be a burden to him to have to carry a large stag like this one.   
She managed to heave the stage onto Snowstorm’s back, and he snorted, tossing his head. He knew there was food sitting upon his back. The horses the Duchess owned were Diomedes, horses bred from blood and death itself. They sported shark-like teeth and tempers held by a thread. If they wanted, they could snap a man’s neck in half in less than a second.   
But Snowstorm was old and gentler than the other steeds in the stables. Crystal strapped the deer down with some rope and mounted up into the saddle, steering Snowstorm towards home. They weren’t very far out – only about a couple miles.   
When they arrived back to the estate, a terrified looking stable boy – an employed half-breed – and one of her mother’s guards came out and approached the duo cautiously. Crystal dismounted and unstrapped the deer, letting the guard take it and haul it over his broad shoulders. The stable boy led Snowstorm back to the stables with shaking hands. This exchange happened in silence. Crystal and the guards did not speak much – only if they had to. And Crystal hated speaking to half-breeds. All they did was shake and stammer like rabbits.   
Inside, warm air greeted her as she removed her cloak and slung it over the antique divan in the foyer. The mansion was quite elaborate, the floors a deep mahogany and the furniture collected from various antique shops – and homes – throughout the centuries. The house was quiet, except for Snowhare, the cat, who hissed at Crystal and ducked under the divan.   
Fuck you, too, she thought. Heading into the parlor, Crystal found her mother, the Duchess of the Black Ice Mountains, sitting elegantly on a beautiful deep red couch, nursing a cup of mint tea and reading an old classic. She wore a simple but still gorgeous black dress with fur lining the low collar. Her inky black hair was pinned up on her head with a snowflake pin.   
“Daughter,” the Duchess greeted Crystal coldly. “I trust your hunt went well?” she said, not looking up from her book.   
“Yes, my lady,” Crystal replied. “I caught a grown stag.” Crystal fought the urge to fidget. Her mother was always so condescending.   
“Well done,” her mother replied, a hint of praise in her sleek voice. She glanced up from her book, finally. “There is something for you on the table,” she said, gesturing with a nod to the small table behind her daughter.   
Crystal turned and frowned as she saw the small letter and, more strangely, the deep blue rose that sat next to it. “What is this?” she asked, turning back to her mother.   
“Why don’t you read the letter, dear?” the Duchess replied, her nose buried back in her book. She took a careful sip of tea.   
Crystal frowned again and proceeded to pick up the letter. It wasn’t elaborate, just a simple letter. She narrowed her eyes as she read:

To the Duchess and her daughter of the Black Ice Mountains,  
You have been most gladly invited to attend the Winter Formal at the court palace. I ask that you do not bother in bringing your entire army, just you and your daughter. The ball will be held on the second day in the mortal month of December. We dearly hope to see you here.  
Her Majesty,  
Queen Mab

Crystal smirked. The Duchess and her had not taken part in many of the parties and festivities the queen held at court, simply because they were about a week’s ride away and the Duchess was rather crotchety toward many of the court members, claiming they were ‘too intelligent for their own good, always thirsting for blood and never seeking to gain better knowledge of their own existence.’   
Her mother was very philosophical.   
Crystal set the letter down and picked up the rose, smelling it gingerly. It smelled like frost with a hint of mint. She frowned. “Mab sent a rose?” she wondered aloud.   
“Not Mab,” her mother said in the tone that meant she knew something Crystal didn’t. “One of her sons, I believe.” She gave a small smile and met Crystal’s gaze over her book.   
Crystal fought the disgust wanting to show on her face and tossed the rose aside. “I’m going to bathe,” she announced, leaving the room without another word and without looking back.


	2. Blizzards & Goblins

Crystal sat soaking in her bath, small red petals adorning the water. She took a deep breath and tried desperately to relax. She sunk farther into the water so that it came up to her chin. Why had one of Mab’s sons sent a rose with the letter? Was it for Crystal or just a courtesy, a signature?  
She hated to think one of Mab’s brats admired her. She was beautiful, yes, with long hair as white as snow hanging down to the middle of her back – when it wasn’t pinned up or tied in a ponytail. But, to think one of the princes…no, they’d never even met her!   
Crystal couldn’t remember the last time she went to Elysium at the Winter court – or if she ever did. Sighing, she sat up and rubbed her shoulder, wincing as a sharp pain struck a muscle. She rolled it, hoping to release the knot.   
After she was done bathing, Crystal dried off and pulled on a pair of clean black leggings and a white linen shirt. She slipped on her ankle boots and headed to find her mother – or food, whichever presented itself first.   
She, unfortunately, found her mother first, in the parlor eating a crumpet. “Care for a pastry, dear?” the Duchess asked in the tone that said she, under no circumstances, really wanted to share her pastries.   
“No, but I appreciate the offer,” Crystal said flatly as she sat down on the edge of a chair across from her mother.   
The Duchess eyed her daughter. “Lady Mab also sent a messenger sparrow along with the letter. He told me that Mab would like us to arrive two days before the ball. She did not say why – probably to exchange a bit of gossip. Mab and I were close friends way back when,” she said, her face thoughtful.  
“That means we will have to leave tomorrow,” Crystal said, frowning. She was not prepared for this.   
“Oh, dear, please don’t state the obvious,” the Duchess said wearily. “It is so remarkably unbecoming of you.”  
Crystal fought to roll her eyes.   
“But, yes, you are correct in that we are leaving tomorrow. So, I suggest you start packing!” her mother chirped excitedly. “And, please Crystal, do bring your best dress. The blue one! I so adore that one.”  
Crystal hated that dress. It was much too girly for her taste. A faint pinging sounded off the window behind her and she turned to glance at the sudden snowstorm that had picked up.   
“Mab’s angry again,” the Duchess remarked matter-of-factly, taking another bite of her crumpet.   
“I’m going to pack,” Crystal said, rising from the chair and exiting, all but running from the room. When her mother dismissed her, it meant she wanted to be alone. No excuses. Up in her room, Crystal had to shoo a couple of house goblins from her desk. Apparently, they’d been trying to eat one of her wood writing utensils. “Get out!” she snapped irritably. The goblins screeched with laughter, snapped the writing utensil in half, and scurried out the door. Crystal sent an ice dagger after them, hitting one in the ass. It yelped and scrambled away.   
Crystal smirked and closed her door. The blizzard had picked up even more outside, cloaking everything in white. Goblins were probably the only creatures on the property that weren’t terrified of her or her mother, constantly causing trouble but doing their job when they had to.   
As she packed, Crystal contemplated ripping the dress up and telling her mother it was ruined, but then again going against the Duchess’s orders was suicide. So, groaning, Crystal chucked the thing into her bag, stuffing it in with the other clothes. She made sure to bring her best weapons – everyone in the Winter court carried one.   
She suddenly spotted the blue rose sitting on her dresser, which she’d left with the letter earlier. Her mother must have put it there. Or the goblins, as a cruel joke. Crystal glared at it for a while longer then snatched it up and opened her window, letting the frigid air kiss her face.   
Without a second thought, she tossed the rose out into the storm.


	3. The Spy

The next morning came all too fast for Crystal. In fact, she supposed the Nevernever was playing a joke on her, speeding up the sunrise and sunset. Wearily, she rose out of bed, pulled on a pair of black pants, a dark blue shirt, and her black riding boots. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail and donned her knee-length coat. It was fashioned with dark blue and black beads from the mortal world and the collar hugged her neck, making her look even more fearsome.   
For some odd reason, nervousness wracked her body. Butterflies swam in her stomach and her palms were clammy. What was there to be frightened of, other than perhaps Mab?  
Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she sighed and strapped a dagger in each boot, and a plethora of knives underneath her coat. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She headed down the stairs to wait in the foyer for her mother. After a few minutes, she began to pace.   
Finally, about a half hour later, the Duchess swept down the stairs in an elaborate black gown with a furred shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was pinned up with beads and she wore long black gloves on her arms. Crystal fought not to say ‘we aren’t at the ball yet, mother’.  
“Oh, good, you’re ready!” the Duchess said, smiling coldly at her daughter. “Let’s be off, then!” She swayed through the front door without looking back.   
Outside, the blizzard had left a good four feet of snow behind. Crystal took in a breath of fresh winter air and felt a smile tug at her lips. It was like smelling her soul. Oh, wait. That’s right, she did not have one. None of the pureblood fey did.   
The horses were waiting for them, chewing on their bits and tossing their heads. Her mother would ride in a carriage while Crystal rode Blackbird. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather ride in the carriage?” her mother asked. Crystal blinked at her.   
The Duchess simply pursed her lips and climbed into the carriage. “Just thought I’d ask,” she piqued. The door was held by a guard who made the not-so-subtle show of eying the Duchess’s rear as she climbed in. Crystal felt her lip twitch in disgust as she strapped her bag to the saddle and swung up onto Blackbird, gathering up his reins.  
The driver gave a click of his tongue and they were off. They rode swiftly, only stopping to rest the horses and – of course – the obvious relieving of protesting bladders. For seven days they traveled, sometimes faster than others, sometimes at a steady walk.   
On the afternoon of the seventh day, they came through a break in the trees to the lake that would lead them underground to court. Crystal swallowed nervously. She did not fancy unfrozen water. Going through was a breeze, though. The horses did not flinch, and the water wasn’t even that bad – just heavy.   
It was only when Blackbird’s hooves touched the ground that Crystal realized she’d been squeezing her eyes shut. She opened them and looked around. They were in the Unseelie Court. Beautiful and terrible in its whole majesty. Wordlessly, they made their way through the small town before the palace, its citizens not paying them much attention as they passed.   
Suddenly, something caught Crystal’s eye. A sharp movement of dark blue passed in the corner of her eye. She glanced in the direction and saw a figure watching her – a figure with deep green eyes. He – or she, it was hard to tell – was dressed in black, only their eyes visible underneath the strange black and white mask they wore. They crouched on a wooden cart, not moving, not even breathing, as they stared at Crystal.   
Blackbird snorted and tossed his head. They were falling back from the carriage, as Crystal had stopped to glare at the figure.   
She turned back to look at her mother’s carriage, narrowing her eyes. The figure was strange – maybe she should alert her mother about it. She glanced back towards where the fey had crouched.  
But the figure was gone.


	4. The Winter Court

As they made their way through the town, Crystal had to rein in Blackbird several times because of a stupid redcap or goblin that decided to run out under his nose. He snorted and tossed his head, baring his sharp teeth, his eyes filled with hunger. Anything that was meat and that moved was food.  
Finally, they pulled to a halt in front of the beautiful ice palace, and Crystal found herself staring in awe. She had never seen anything like it – it shone even in the gloominess of the cave. She quickly caught herself though and focused back on the matter at hand.  
Two guards approached to help the Duchess out of her carriage. She swatted one’s hand away with her glove as she removed them and stepped out herself. “I appreciate the offer, dears, but it is really not necessary. I am not that old.” She smiled like a cobra, winking at one guard. Little did they know she was probably plotting their demise right then and there.  
Crystal swung off of Blackbird and quickly pulled an old rag over his eyes, tying it under his chin. If he couldn’t see his food, he would be less likely to rip its head clean off its shoulders. He snorted and shook his mane, chewing on the bit.  
The guards motioned the Duchess and Crystal to follow them. Crystal followed a couple feet behind her mother, being careful not to step on the train of her dress. They walked down a long, icy corridor, redcaps around a few corners playing cards and, occasionally, tearing into each other’s throats. The turned a corner and headed down a second corridor, their feet silent on the icy floor.  
And then, they entered the throne room. It was massive, its ceiling reaching sky high. Guards were posted at the two entrances and a few nobles stood around, drinking wine and exchanging gossip. And on her throne of ice, looking out into the crowd like a snow leopard, sat Queen Mab. She breathed as though she was sleeping, her chest rising and falling slowly. But her black eyes scanned the crowd intently. She wore a dress of pure white, with small beads adorning it, making it look as if it were made out of snow.  
Crystal reminded herself to breathe as her and the Duchess were escorted to the center of the room, all heads turning to look at them. Crystal found her fingers twitching towards the knife concealed in her coat sleeve. With a flick of her wrist, it would be in her palm.  
The room quieted as the guards bowed and stepped aside. The Duchess smiled and did not curtsy. Crystal held her breath and narrowed her eyes. “Welcome,” Mab said calmly. “It is quite a pleasure to see you again, Lady Eira. How many centuries has it been since you last visited?”  
The Duchess smiled. “Too long, Lady Mab, too long. I believe your youngest was about…” she trailed off, thinking for a moment, her fingers on her chin, “Fifteen in human years, I would say.” She smiled again. “Lord, it has been a while, hasn’t it?”  
Mab gestured with her chin to Crystal. “Is this your daughter?” she asked curiously.  
Crystal felt her muscles tense and she took a deep breath. Why was her mother speaking so informally with the Queen? Were they friends? Her mother spoke up. “Oh, you haven’t met my Crystal? Say hello to the Queen, girl, now don’t be rude!” she hissed, swatting lightly at Crystal’s arm with her glove.  
Crystal swallowed and forced a smile, keeping her eyes emotionless. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty,” she said, glad her voice did not waver. Crystal’s heart was beating hard. Where were they? she thought. There were three individuals she was dreading to meet, and not knowing where they were made her even more antsy.  
“The next two days you will help me to prepare for the Winter Formal. I have some new ideas in mind and I’d like to hear your thoughts,” Mab was saying.  
The Duchess was ignoring Crystal. “Oh, gladly,” she said, her tone cheery but also a do-not-fuck-with-me tone. The Duchess only used that tone when she felt slightly threatened. “I believe your children are home,” she said suddenly, her voice dropping low. She smiled and turned to look at Crystal.  
“I had forgotten how difficult it was to kill a wyvern,” a low, icy, male voice spoke up as a figure walked into the room, fey scattering out of the way. Crystal did not turn around. Her heart was pounding and she glanced at Mab.  
“Sage, Rowan, Ash, I was beginning to worry,” Mab said, her tone cool. “Tell me, have you solved the problem that was bothering the Duke of Frostfell?”  
Crystal did not miss the icy glare in her direction via her mother and Mab for a hundredth of a second, the room growing slightly colder. Then, she realized she was the only one in the room whose back was to the princes. What a stupid mistake. She clenched her jaw and turned around.  
And met the sharp blue eyes that would be her downfall.


	5. Poisoned Greetings

Crystal felt her breath catch slightly as she beheld Mab’s sons. They were all beautiful, of course, unfortunately. Although the feminine part of Crystal appreciated that. She clenched her jaw and gave them all her best ‘what the hell are you looking at?’ stare. All three had swords at their hips.   
“You must be Crystal, Lady Eira’s daughter,” the tall one with green eyes spoke up. He stepped forward and nodded his head in a casual greeting. “I am Prince Sage,” he introduced himself. He wore a long black cloak, black shirt, pants, and boots. His long ebony hair hung loose, cascading down his back like ink.   
“And these two idiots,” he whispered so only Crystal could hear, “are my brothers, Rowan and Ash. Rowan is the one who should not be leering at you like some foolish child.” Sage said the last few words louder so those standing close by heard. A few snickers from redcaps spread around the room.   
Crystal refused to meet Rowan’s eyes as he studied her. In contrast to his brothers, he wore all white. Crystal also noticed a small gold stud in one of his ears.   
Sage let a devious smirk cross his face as the prince with spiky black hair and sharp blue eyes – Rowan – blushed and looked ready to strangle his brother. The third one – Ash – simply stood there looking like he was going to fall asleep standing up at any minute. Crystal couldn’t blame him; court affairs were quite boring.   
“My, you three have grown,” the Duchess piped in, smiling a smile that was anything but friendly. “It has been too long, dears. I hope Mab hasn’t run you too hard into the ground.”  
Sage smiled in return and Rowan continued to study Crystal. She felt slightly uncomfortable and felt her cheeks heat a bit. Her fingers instinctively itched toward her knives but she caught herself.   
“I trust you three had an uneventful journey back?” Mab suddenly cut in. “The wyvern is dead, yes?” She said this last part sternly, raising a groomed eyebrow at the three.   
“Yes, Majesty, the filth is defeated,” Rowan boasted. “I did most of the killing myself, actually.”  
Sage rolled his eyes. “With our help.” He nudged Ash, who’d actually begun to fall asleep, with his elbow. Ash flinched awake, completely alert now. Mab raised her eyebrow even higher.   
“A bit drowsy, Ash?” she asked, slightly amused. Crystal fought not to smirk as she watched this interaction. Ash swallowed and sighed.   
“It has been a long journey, I’m afraid. My apologies, my queen,” he said, rather tiredly. Mab blinked and nodded once.   
“Then, I suggest you three get some rest. I won’t have my sons falling asleep during the Winter Formal.” Mab said it both gently and coldly, making it clear that she was more than a little pissed that Ash was unable to stay fully awake.   
The three princes bowed to Mab and quickly left the room. “As a matter of fact, Lady Eira, you and your daughter must be weary from your journey. Why don’t you rest for a bit before supper. Then, we will talk,” Mab suggested. “Thistle, Garnet, show our guests to their rooms!” she commanded two guards.   
Crystal was shocked. She hadn’t expected Mab to be so…hospitable. “We appreciate your hospitality, Lady Mab,” the Duchess said, nodding to the queen. Crystal did the same as they were led out of the throne room and down several more halls. The guards showed them to their rooms, which were across the hall, thankfully. Crystal would have just about tore her hair out if she’d had to share a room with her mother.   
Inside her room, Crystal set down her bag and flopped on the soft, plushy bed. Fatigue suddenly came over her and she kicked off her boots and tugged her coat off. She unbuckled her knife belt and set it on the nightstand next to the bed. She laid her head down on the pillow and was asleep moments later.


	6. Rowan

A sharp knock on the door brought Crystal from her deep sleep. Annoyed, she groaned and sat up, prepared to slice through the throat of whoever had disturbed her sleep. Unless, of course, it was her mother or the queen.   
She yanked the door open to find a small goblin standing there, shaking when he saw her and staring at her with terror in his eyes. Good, she thought. “What is it?” she snapped.   
“H-her Majesty s-sent m-me to fetch y-you for d-d-dinner,” he stammered. “S-she w-wanted…uh…t-to…er…”  
Crystal glared ice spears at the thing. “Spit it out, fool!” she yelled. Her temper was hanging by a thread – a trait from her father, her mother had told her once.   
The goblin jumped in surprise and gulped. “H-her Majesty wanted you to wear a dress to dinner,” he said. Crystal rolled her eyes and slammed the door in the goblins face. She turned and went to her bag, pulling out a deep blue dress-like tunic. If she must wear a dress, fine. She’d wear a “dress”.  
After pulling it on, she pulled her boots back on and strapped a couple knives to her belt, sliding one into her boot. Then, she opened the door to see the goblin covering his face as if she were about to hit him. “All right, I’m ready,” she said, irritated. “And you can stop acting like I’m going to eat you!”  
“R-right this w-way, Lady,” he stammered, quickly turning and leading Crystal toward the dining room. They walked down a couple long hallways before the goblin stopped in front of a doorway, two guards standing on either side.   
Crystal almost kicked the goblin as she strode into the dining room, beholding the long mahogany table and the five figures sitting at it. She almost turned and walked right back out. Almost.   
“Crystal, dear, glad of you to join us!” her mother spoke up, sipping dark red wine. “What took you so long?”  
Crystal briefly glanced at the other figures, Sage looking at her expectantly, Rowan grinning at her like a cat that had just cornered a mouse, and Ash staring at his plate like it held the answer to all his questions. “I was resting,” she said, approaching the chair next to her mother – right across the table from Rowan.   
“I hope Grimle didn’t give you too much trouble,” Mab said, taking an elegant sip from her fancy wine glass. “He can be a bit…irritable sometimes.”  
“There was no trouble,” Crystal replied, spooning some vegetables onto her plate. Everyone had already begun eating. Crystal took a hesitant bite of a carrot. She breathed in deeply. It was amazing. She tried not to eat too fast but the effort was almost unbearable. The food was the best she’d ever tasted.   
“Do you hunt?” someone asked Crystal. She was happy to answer until she realized it was Rowan who spoke. She finally looked up and met his blue eyes.   
Damn it, why does he have to be so gorgeous? Crystal thought. “Yes,” she said as if it were obvious. Her mother kicked her sharply under the table with her seven-inch heels. Crystal clenched her teeth and moved her legs away from her mother’s reach. “Yes, I do hunt a bit. More often in the Summer season though, when prey is more accessible.” She went back to picking at her food. She was no longer hungry for some reason.   
“I spotted a white hart a few days ago near the Wyldwood,” Rowan was saying. “Perhaps we could track it down.” He smiled and took a bite of a green bean. “If you want to, of course.”  
Crystal really didn’t want to think about what she wanted to do to Rowan. “That would be nice,” she said tersely. She realized frost had now spread over half of her fork. “I just purchased a new set of arrows at the Goblin market a few weeks ago and have yet to use them.”  
Ash was looking at her strangely. A slight furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “Is there some way my brother has offended you, Lady Crystal?” He fought to smile as Rowan glared ice at him. So he was taunting his older brother. Crystal could play at this game.   
“No, not necessarily,” she said. “Other than just existing.” Crystal gave the sweetest, coldest smile she could muster.   
“CRYSTAL,” her mother snapped, shocked. She was staring at her daughter wide eyed with shock. “Apologize,” she hissed.   
Crystal glanced at Rowan, who sat back in his seat. His smile never wavered. Her comment hadn’t even fazed him – in fact, he seemed encouraged by it. “I’m very sorry, Your Highness,” Crystal said, glaring back at him, not sorry at all.   
Sage was fighting not to laugh and Ash fought not to roll his eyes. Rowan’s versions of flirting were very eccentric. Mab looked quite amused herself.   
“Then we shall go hunt the hart tomorrow, since the Winter Formal isn’t until after tomorrow,” Rowan said, taking a sip of his wine. Crystal would have given anything to reach over and splash it all over his achingly handsome face.


	7. Cold Hearts & White Harts

The rest of dinner was composed of small gossip between the Duchess and Mab, the three princes fallen to silence as they ate, which Crystal didn’t mind at all. Although, a couple times Rowan did nudge Crystal’s leg under the table with his boot. She debated kicking him back but then decided that would only provoke him further.  
So, she ignored him, much to his surprise and disappointment. Afterwards, Crystal disappeared to her room while the others went their separate ways. Crystal noticed a large gray wolf trailing behind Sage as he headed down the hall toward his room. Before Rowan or her mother could corner her, she escaped out to the stables.  
She knew seeing Blackbird – a friend who couldn’t talk back – would give her relief. Blackbird was more than happy to see her. They had to put him and the other Diomedes in stalls with bars on the doors, so that they didn’t lunge out with their long necks and bite someone’s hand off. Understandable, Crystal thought.  
Crystal slid the stall door open and greeted her horse with a pat on the nose. “Hey, Blackie,” she murmured and he nickered in response, nudging her with his head. She gave him a scratch under his bangs and he snuffed with happiness. “What did we get ourselves into, huh?” she asked him, knowing he would only give her a look that said ‘what did you get yourself into, you mean?’  
Crystal sighed and leaned against him. Hopefully, tomorrow wouldn’t be too agonizing trying to hunt one of the rarest types of deer with Rowan.  
*****  
“Are you absolutely sure you spotted a white hart?” Crystal asked Rowan as they sat on their mounts in the middle of the forest. They were on the border of the Wyldwood, thankfully not knee deep in snow. It was strange that a white hart would travel this far near Tir Na Nog.  
“Of course! I swear it was,” Rowan replied, smirking. “I wouldn’t lie to you, now would I?” He sat atop a tall black stallion with flaming blue eyes and a short temper named Skull.  
“Then again, white harts are tricky to spot and it could have been a faery playing a trick on us,” Ash was saying. He’d insisted on coming, if only to escape the palace while it was in full decoration mode for the party. He sat atop Calx, a legendary stallion of courage and speed.  
Blackbird was not having a fun morning. Crystal had risen early and gone down to the stables to feed him, only to find that there were no fresh mice or rats crawling around. Long story short, her horse had not yet eaten his breakfast and was quite hungry. Diomedes didn’t eat regular horses, but Rowan and Ash were looking quite tasty at the moment to Blackbird.  
“Maybe if we split up it will be easier to find it?” Crystal suggested. Bad idea.  
“All right, little brother, you take the left and Crys and I will take the right!” Rowan suggested, grinning, already steering Skull in the direction he pointed.  
Crystal didn’t move. “What did you just call me?” she demanded. A normal Winter sidhe would never question their princes. But Crystal was a bit stubborn and hard headed most of the time. Most of all, she was not your normal Winter sidhe.  
Ash smirked as he and Calx headed left into the woods. Rowan stopped Skull and turned to look at her. “No one ever calls you Crys?” he asked, smiling. Why did he have to smile so much?  
“No,” she said, stilled a bit aghast that he would use a nickname with her. Rowan just smirked again and urged Skull forward.  
“Well, it suits you,” was all he said. Crystal sighed and followed him, agreeing with Blackbird’s throaty growl and pinned ears.  
They walked for about twenty minutes before Crystal spotted a squirrel high atop a tree branch. She pulled Blackbird to a halt and knocked an arrow in her bow. She aimed and fired; the squirrel fell from the tree as the arrow pierced its hide. Crystal dismounted and pulled the arrow out of the animal. She then held it out to her horse. Blackbird took it gently with his sharp teeth, holding it in his jaws as a prize.  
“Wherever did you get that thing? You seem to care a lot for him.” Rowan said, watching from a few feet away. His eyes were narrowed. He was testing her.  
Crystal gave him an icy look. “When someone is loyal to you, you tend to care for them, simply to keep them loyal and show you respect,” she said. He gazed at her and nodded.  
“Fair enough,” he replied. “You just don’t seem like the most caring person.”  
“Neither do you,” she shot back. She swung up into the saddle and urged Blackbird forward. Rowan followed her in silence. She was aware of him watching her, his eyes searing a hole through her back.  
Suddenly, Crystal pulled Blackbird to a halt. Through the trees, just a few meters away, was the white hart, just then noticing them, as well. It froze and stared at them with old, wise eyes. It was smaller than an average deer, probably only coming up to Blackbird’s shoulder. It’s horns were elaborate and thin, and its eyes were made of ink.  
She felt Rowan place an arrow in his bow, and she urged Blackbird to the side to give him better aim. She held her breath, not wanting to breathe for fear the hart would dart away, or Rowan would miss.  
She didn’t have to, though. The hart suddenly twitched and fell to the forest floor, a black arrow sticking up through its hide. Blood started to drip out of its wound, the red a sharp contrast to its snow white coat.  
Crystal frowned and Rowan replaced his arrow in its quiver. “Who the-?” he started but she shushed him. She’d apologize for shushing a prince later. But, out of the trees stepped a figure. A figure dressed in black with poisoned green eyes. He, she could see now that she had a better view of his full form, stalked forward to inspect the deer. Crystal had the impression that the figure knew he was being watched.  
Rowan was silent. Then, he whispered to her. “Do you get the feeling something’s not right with him?” he asked. She nodded. She expect him to dismount, draw his sword and march forward, cursing the figure for stealing his prey. But the prince was silent, frowning. Skull suddenly snorted and backed away several steps, fear clear in his eyes.  
Blackbird growled and pawed the ground, baring his teeth. “We should go find Ash,” Crystal suggested, steering her horse around and urging him to a trot. Rowan followed and Skull leapt into a canter, his ears pinned against his head. Crystal glanced back once at the figure, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw the hart and the figure gone, a black rose in their place.


	8. Cold Blood

The ride back to the palace was quiet, Rowan a bit troubled by what they’d seen and Ash content just to ride in silence beside Crystal. She placed a hand on the saddle bag, relief coursing through her at the feel of the bird inside. They’d caught a bird, squirrel, and Ash a small rabbit. It was a successful hunt, she decided.   
Back at the palace, they left their mounts to the stable boys and headed inside. The palace was already mostly decorated for the ball. Decorations of evergreen adorned the walls. Small faery lights sat in the greenery, making it glow slightly.   
As they passed the ballroom, Crystal had a look inside through the glass doors. She gasped slightly at the sight of about ten trees lining the walls and corners. Somehow the guards had managed to drag in tall Douglas Firs, Fraser Firs, and a few Blue Spruces. Goblins and the guards were working on decorating the trees with colorful balls and a several faery lights.   
“It’s like the mortal holiday of Christmas,” Rowan whispered in her ear, his cold breath brushing the skin of her neck. She bristled and jumped slightly.   
“Damn it, don’t do that!” she hissed, glaring at him. He only smiled.   
“What? Did I scare you?” he smirked.  
She wished she had enough power to freeze him to the wall and leave him there. “No! You merely startled me. Being scared is much different from being startled.” Why was her heart pounding so hard?  
“Of course it is,” he murmured in her ear again. “Well, I must go see how Edgebrair is fairing with his raiding plans.”  
Crystal frowned. “Raiding plans?” she looked back at him and he turned back to face her.   
“Yes, we’re planning to raid a dryad camp whose residents have stolen some of our food supplies from the city,” Rowan told her. “You’re welcome to join, if you like? I would be most honored,” he grinned at her.   
“Is that your idea of a date? A raid?” she raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh. He smiled wider in response.   
Something was definitely wrong with her heart.   
*****  
A scream woke her from a deep sleep. Crystal shot up from where she’d fallen asleep on the divan in her room, grabbing her knife and glancing around wildly, her battle instincts kicking in. She was alone in her room. The scream had come from down the hall.   
How long had she been asleep? She looked out the window to find the blue moon high in the sky. It was at least late evening, maybe near midnight. After she’d declined on Rowan’s offer to join him on the raid, she’d retreated to her room to nap. Apparently a nap had turned into full on sleep.   
Grabbing a second knife, she crept out into the hall to investigate the scream. Guards were hurrying left – towards the throne room. The scream had been one of horror, not pain. It was these kinds of screams that drew Crystal’s attention. She’d heard plenty of the pained ones. Following the guards, she entered the throne room, where a small crowd was gathered. The guards were reluctant to touch whatever they were standing over. The three princes were there, Sage looking solemn with his wolf sitting beside him. Rowan narrowed his eyes and craned his neck, trying to get a better look at what the guards were surrounding. Ash just studied the crowd suspiciously.   
“What’s going on?” Crystal asked a nearby sidhe – Thistle, she recalled his name was.   
He did not meet her eyes as he nodded towards a small gap in the crowd and Crystal got a good look at the calamity that was once a guard. One side of his face had been horribly mutilated and his eyes popped clean out of their sockets. His tongue had even been stolen. Crystal felt her stomach roil and swallowed down her nausea.   
“He was my brother,” Thistle said sadly. “I found him like this, murdered in cold blood,” he said. His gaze turned empty and Crystal felt a great effort to hold in the bile in her throat as she caught a glimpse of a strange brand on the other side of Garnet’s face, the side that wasn’t mutilated.   
The brand was of a dark rose with two crossbones behind it. “Who did this?” she wondered, aghast. Who would dare murder a Winter guard in his own home?  
But she knew the answer as she looked toward his hand to see none other than a small, black rose.


	9. The Winter Formal

Crystal did not like parties. They were always so closed in and too loud. And the human musicians playing onstage with their void expressions were flat. Crystal stood against the wall, watching the activities around the room. Queen Mab stood talking with another Winter noble, the Duke of Frostfell, Crystal thought she heard Mab address him.   
Her mother weaved in and out of small crowds, flirting with handsome nobles and then leaving them to swoon. She didn’t see Ash anywhere but she did spot Sage and his wolf over by the food table.   
Crystal took a deep breath, which was considerably difficult in the cruel contraption they called a corset she wore. Her dress would be considered exquisite by any who laid eyes upon it. She, however, hated it. Yes, the color being a deep sapphire blue was divine, but the constricting bodice squeezed her insides and gave her an impressive décolletage. The skirt flowed down around her ankles and moved with her, making it easy to dance it.   
However, Crystal, unlike her mother, could not dance. Couples swirled around the dance floor in an elaborate array of color. She sighed again and blew a stray lock of white hair from her eyes. Her hair was pinned up elaborately atop her head and her lips coated in a glossy sheen of pink. All right, she had to admit she did look rather stunning.   
She sensed a presence beside her and tensed, hoping it wasn’t him. “You look magnificent, Lady Crystal,” a familiar voice said lowly.   
Crystal turned with relief and met the deep green eyes of Thistle, the guard. He’d taken the loss of his brother hard, cooping himself up in his chambers and drinking himself unconscious. Tonight, though, by Mab’s request, he cleaned up well.   
“Thistle, it’s good to see you,” she said, giving him a small smile. “How are you faring?” she tested him. Emotions were a weakness, and if he felt so trusting of her to share them, she would be happy to laugh in his face. Or would she?  
“Fine,” he replied. Dark circles lined his eyes. But, at least his silver hair was neatly groomed and his coat of black and silver sparkling under the blue candlelight. “You?”  
“Quite well. Although I don’t understand why my mother insists on making me wear this horrid thing,” she complained, gesturing to her dress. She took another deep breath, which made her breasts press against the tight bodice.  
Thistle’s eyes automatically flicked downward, his jaw tightening visibly.   
“Hey! My face is here,” she snapped, catching his chin and making him look at her face. She smiled. “Better.”  
“My apologies, Lady Crystal,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I actually came over to…er…ask something of you,” he said, hiding his hands behind his back.   
Crystal raised an eyebrow.   
“Will you…dance with me?” he murmured, not meeting her eyes.   
She smiled. She found his shyness quite amusing and rather cute. “Of course, Thistle,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor. He placed his hands on her waist and her hands on his shoulders. They danced around, dodging more wild couples. She took his lead, never once stepping on one of his feet, like she’d feared. “I’ll have to apologize; I’m not the best dancer in Faery,” she said, smiling.   
“Neither am I,” he replied. They twirled for a while more and Crystal found herself actually enjoying this.   
“You’re a better dancer than you give yourself credit for,” Thistle told her, smiling warmly. His green eyes bored into hers.   
She opened her mouth to say something in return but suddenly Thistle stopped. Someone stood beside them, his hands behind his back, patiently waiting. The song had also changed to something a little more slow and sensual. Crystal clenched her teeth.   
“May I cut in?” Rowan asked, practically shoving Thistle away from Crystal. Thistle bowed his head respectfully and stepped back. Before Crystal could protest or snap Rowan’s neck in half, he’d pulled her into his arms and hers automatically went to his shoulders.  
“I hear you’re a good dancer,” he purred, pulling her closer. Their faces were inches apart. Crystal would be sure to kill the maid who’d helped her dress (by her mother’s command) and had cinched her corset too tight.   
“I…a little,” she replied. Damn, it was quite warm in the room for a Winter palace. Rowan smiled, his blue eyes a sharp contrast to his attire of snow white.   
“Well, you haven’t stepped on my feet yet, so I’ll give you some credit,” he joked.  
“Would you like me to?” Crystal shot back, finding herself smirking. She would certainly like to. Among other things…  
Rowan laughed, spinning her outward and then back in expertly. She blushed harder as he pulled her back to his chest. “I hear rumors of Summer planning to strike against one of our camps near the Wyldwood,” he said, changing the subject.   
“Oh? And from whom did you hear this?” she asked. If Summer attacked a Winter camp, it would be a declaration of war between the courts. As much as Crystal would love to tear into a Summer pixie, the thought of Rowan possibly lying on the ground dead made her head spin and her throat close up.   
She pushed the feeling down with a vengeance. “Is everything all right?” Rowan asked, his smile fading as he took in her expression.   
“Yes, I…just need some air,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. The song ended, anyway, and it was getting a bit stuffy in the room.   
“My compliments to the sidhe who said before she was not a good dancer,” Rowan drawled, taking her hand and kissing it, taking much more time than he needed to, meeting her eyes as he did.   
She swallowed and felt her cheeks heat. She couldn’t say anything for fear of what would come out of her mouth.   
He began to walk away but leaned back to whisper in her ear. “You’re rather cute when you blush.” She shivered and debated strangling him as his soft lips brushed the tip of her ear.   
Without another glance back to where he’d gone, Crystal escaped out into the courtyard, welcoming the brutal chill as it hit her. Several redcaps were playing cards under a fountain and other nobles stood around sharing gossip. A few couples had also found it fitting to sneak out into the trees for a bit of fun.   
Crystal leaned against the fountain and spotted Ash over by the wall, apparently cornered by a faery with sleek black hair, green streaks running through it. She was lithe and sharply graceful, dressed in a sky blue dress that was two sizes too small for her and glittery silver shoes. She seemed to be trying to get Ash to do something – probably dance. Apparently her methods of taking his hand and leaning closer to him, practically sitting on him, weren’t working.   
He looked as if he were struggling between shoving her away and vomiting. Thankfully, he did neither. He met Crystal’s eyes and she smirked. She sent a bit of chill toward the female sidhe’s throat and she suddenly coughed, pulling away from Ash and grabbing her throat.   
Crystal held on a bit longer before letting the girl go. The spell wasn’t draining, thankfully. Ash approached her, taking the escape. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, leaning against the fountain beside her.   
“She was going to swallow you if I hadn’t,” Crystal replied.   
Ash smirked. “Snowberry would swallow anyone if they let her,” he said. “She just wants attention, that’s all.” He paused for a moment. “And besides which, how did you ever escape my brother when he was practically going to swallow you?” Ash tried not to laugh.  
Crystal rolled her eyes and lightly smacked his arm. “Don’t speak of it,” she said, but a smile pulled at her lips. “I told him that I was having a crisis,” she said.  
Ash was silent for a few moments. “So Rowan then?” he asked, finally letting a devious smile pull at his lips.   
This time, Crystal blushed even harder and kicked snow at the prince’s boot.


	10. Caught

The party continued through the night, nobles and willowy fey dancing until they were breathless. Crystal milled about with the crowd, paying the food table a visit, then dancing with Sage, who finally convinced her to after about half an hour. His wolf lay a few feet away, watching them with wise, old eyes.   
Crystal spotted her mother gossiping with Mab and a few other sidhe, a glass of blue champagne in her hand. “You’re distracted,” Sage observed. She looked back at him and sighed.   
“My apologies, your Highness, I….It’s been a long night.” Lame excuse but he didn’t seem to mind.   
“There is a sparring match tomorrow by the frozen pond. If you are good with a sword, I would be honored if you would join. It’ll just be my brothers, a few guards, and I,” Sage told her, changing the subject.   
Crystal had never been bad with a sword, although she bested anyone and everyone with knives. “The honor would be mine, your Highness,” she said. Sage smiled and spun her out and back in.   
“We meet at dawn by the pond, then,” he said.   
After three more dances with Sage and one other with a guard named Winterbrey, who was all too touchy feely for her taste, Crystal was near spent. Usually in war, she could go a day or two without sleep and could keep up fighting for hours. But dancing, it seemed, was the culprit that wore her the most out.   
After excusing herself for some fresh air, Crystal headed outside to the courtyard again. She hadn’t seen Ash since they’d parted ways a few hours ago. She did spot Rowan though. With a female sidhe.   
She was tall and lithe, with pale skin, inky black eyes like Mab’s, and snowy white hair like Crystal’s. She was dressed in an elegant white diamond dress that had a slit up the side, revealing quite a bit of leg, and an open back that revealed only a few scars.   
The female seemed to be in a quiet conversation with the prince until she reached up with one elegant finger and trailed it over his jawline. Crystal felt a strange, almost acidic feeling go through her. Her heart sped up and the sudden urge to strangle something – preferably the female – washed over her.   
It only intensified as Rowan leaned down and kissed the female, pulling her up against him. The female did not resist but only deepened the kiss, sliding her hands through his hair. Crystal realized her fists were clenched and tried to relax them. She did not want to be seen glaring wildfire at the two.   
“I wish she wouldn’t flaunt her wealth so,” a voice chirped behind Crystal. She whirled around, fingers twitching toward the knife concealed in a strap on her thigh. A girl with dark dreadlocks stood there, grinning at her.   
“Narissa always seems to purchase the most expensive – and heavy – things from the mortal world, and the goblin markets,” the girl said, stepping up beside Crystal.   
“Why buy things from the mortal world, as far as dresses go?” Crystal snarled. What was the matter with her? She clenched and unclenched her fists.  
“She has them customized especially for her,” the girl, who Crystal recognized as a phouka, said. The phouka was studying Crystal intently.   
Crystal tried pushing the strange feeling to the back of her mind and conjure up a bored expression, but it was too late. The phouka’s golden eyes widened and she glanced from Rowan and Narissa – who were clearly trying to swallow each other – and back to Crystal.  
“Are you…jealous, Lady Crystal?” The phouka gaped at her and then suddenly let out a loud howl of laughter. “Oh, that is hilarious! Crystal, daughter of the Duchess of the Black Ice Mountains, is jealous of Prince Rowan and Narissa!” she screeched, loud enough for all in close proximity to hear. “Oh, and I’m Taiothin, by the way,” she said when she’d caught her breath.   
Jealousy? Was that what this feeling was? She didn’t even like Rowan…  
“Shut up or it will be the last words you say!” Crystal hissed, but the damage had already been done. Heads turned their way, redcaps snickered, and Rowan and Narissa pulled apart – although only enough to look toward Crystal and Taiothin.   
Crystal felt her cheeks heat in humiliation as a smirk pulled at Rowan’s lips and Narissa smiled cruelly. Taiothin began to laugh again and Crystal just about exploded. She meant to throw an ice dagger at the phouka, but Taiothin saw it coming and jumped out of the way, morphing into a cat and darting off, still yowling with laughter.   
Crystal couldn’t look at anyone, Rowan especially. Feeling the size of a bug, Crystal turned on her heel and marched toward the stables. Any couples who’d snuck up into the hayloft had better say their prayers. Hopefully Blackbird wouldn’t laugh at her too.


	11. Snare

As Crystal entered the musty stables, the sound of horses whickering, she considered tacking up Blackbird and hightailing it for home. Unfortunately further assessment brought to light several challenges. One, she was still in her dress and high heels, which would not be ideal for riding. Two, it would be an obvious sign of weakness, running away after being humiliated would brand her as a coward. She could not afford that. Three, her mother would simply find her and drag her back.   
Crystal sighed as she located Blackbird’s stall and patted his nose. The couples in the hayloft fled once they saw her, giggling with mirth as they went. She stroked her horse’s velvety nose, hating the warm tears that pressed against the back of her eyes.   
Why did she feel this way? She did not even like Rowan that way! Or…she did not want to admit she liked him, deep down. For 348 years, her mother had raised her with the notion that love merely does not exist, just a deep lust that can snare a creature for longer than usual. And sometimes that deep attraction was a weakness and could get you killed. It certainly had her father.   
She wished she could just tear out her heart so that she wouldn’t have to feel. If only the action wouldn’t kill her. A shuffle in the shadows behind her made her pause. Blackbird’s action of pinning his ears and snarling made her freeze, her hand immediately going to the knife concealed at her thigh.  
Silence greeted her as she turned and looked into the shadows. All the horses had suddenly become very quiet, seeming to hold their breath. None moved a muscle. Crystal, heart beating erratically and senses on high alert, crept slowly toward the shadows, her knife gripped in her fist.  
She gasped as she suddenly felt the chill of a blade against her throat and a strong arm around her middle. Thankfully, she did not drop her weapon. But something was wrong with the blade at her throat. It smelled funny, tangy.   
“Drop the knife, or you’ll not see the light of day again,” a dark, silky voice purred in her ear. The voice belonged to a male, a male that smelled like smoke and wildflowers. Summer. Summer was in the Winter court. Summer was holding a strange smelling knife to her throat.   
“I said drop it!” the Summer faery hissed, tightening his hold on her waist. With the corset and his added grip, she could hardly breathe. Angrily, she dropped her weapon, hating the clatter it made on the stone floor. The horses around them were snorting and pinning their ears in distress.  
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now, do try not to scream, else I’ll slice you with this and let the poison into your blood to make it boil.”   
“Who are you?” she snarled, already drawing her glamour to her, trying to direct it toward the male sidhe.  
He pressed the blade harder against her throat, forcing her to lean back away from it, further back against him. She wanted to vomit in disgust as his hand caressed her middle. He chuckled darkly. “Oh, I think you know who I am, love,” he purred against her ear. “I believe I stole your hart the other day in the woods. No pun intended,” he laughed.  
Her heart seemed to skip a beat. The black rose. Garnet. “Who are you?” she snarled again. “What do you want?” She had all her glamour to her now, waiting for the opportune moment to strike him.   
“My name is Snare. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. First of all, I want your head. After I have some fun with you,” he said, nipping at her exposed neck. She clenched her jaw. “Secondly, I want to make sure Summer walks away victorious the next time we meet in the Reaping Fields. What better way to win a war than to slowly pick off the opposing side’s best fighters?”  
Crystal concentrated on breathing as, ironically, a chill went down her spine. Her ears rung from holding in her glamour. “That is against the rules of war, to kill before the declaration has been made,” she said, sweat dripping down her temples.   
“My Queen does not like to follow the rules, love,” he whispered, using a bit of his own glamour to push heat into the blade so that it seared her throat.   
A small squeak of pain forced its way out of her throat. Snare grinned and held her tighter. He didn’t hear the figure materialize from snow and wind behind him, though.   
“The problem with Summer freaks is that they talk too much and never get down to business,” the figure said, making Snare jump slightly, catching him off guard.   
Crystal took the opportunity. She slammed her stiletto foot down on his and twisted out of his grip, kneeing him in the groin. This forced him to bend over with a grunt – and meet the point of her ice dagger to his heart.   
She made sure to push it in to the hilt. He groaned and fell to the ground. “You’re too late,” he laughed, blood trickling out of his mouth. Crystal let go some of her glamour, creating a mini blizzard outside. If there were any other Summer spies, they were dead by now.   
“Our forces are already planning an attack on your camps near the border. You won’t be able to withstand our newly forged weapons. We-” Snare didn’t get the chance to finish, for Rowan pushed his blade into the faery’s mouth, then sliced it to each side, giving Snare a horrible, red grin.   
“He was getting rather annoying,” the prince smirked, wiping his sword on post. The prince was unscathed, any mysterious teeth marks via Narissa concealed by glamour.  
“Why did you do that?” Crystal demanded, all too aware she was challenging her prince. “He was giving us valuable information!” She grabbed her knife from where she’d dropped it and glared at him.   
“I heard all I needed to hear. Rule one of war: kill first, ask later,” he said, smiling at her. Crystal noticed a small dimple on the left side of his mouth. She wanted to kick herself. She should not be noticing these things!  
“That sounds like a motto to me,” she said flatly, hoping she wasn’t blushing again. Then, she did the thing most fey would be executed, or frozen, for: she turned her back on the prince, and walked out of the stables, leaving him and the pile of rotting wildflowers – once Snare – behind.


	12. From My Heart

The attempt on Crystal’s life brought a new demeanor of foreboding and tension about the court. Her mother had gone simply livid, demanding a raid on all the Summer camps around the Wyldwood border. That idea had been quickly tamed by Mab, who assured the Duchess her fair share of Summer bloodshed during the war – which was now looking to be inevitable.   
Unfortunately, there was one little problem. Elysium was in a week. Perhaps, the situation of Summer spies sneaking into Winter territory could be solved without violence. Of course, none of the winter sidhe liked this idea; they all wanted bloodshed. Not on Crystal’s behalf but simply because it was in their nature.   
After the night of the Winter Formal, Crystal’s mother became the irritating over protective parent, setting guards to accompany Crystal everywhere. Crystal had snapped at them more than a dozen times that they did not need to accompany her to the bathroom or bed. She’d even ordered them to piss off, but unfortunately they pulled the “we were ordered by the Duchess” card.   
Crystal tried several times to escape them, but Thistle, who was on babysitting duty – that’s basically what it was – always found her. He tried to be friendly but after a few days, Crystal began to see what Thistle’s true motives were. After he brought her a piece of lemon cake with eyes like a puppy dog, she simply ignored him.   
This only resulted in him drinking even more heavily than he had after his brother’s death. She didn’t care. She would not have some love-struck guard following her around and giving her gifts. She had to admit, the lemon cake was quite tasty though.   
Crystal now sucked in a breath as she took aim for the squirrel up in the tree. She thought earlier maybe a bit of hunting would clear her mind. Thankfully, she’s snuck out without being trailed by guards – after slipping a bit of napping weed into their breakfasts.   
She had the vague feeling that someone had indeed followed her – probably Thistle, who hadn’t come out of his room since she’d practically screamed at him to stop being so smitten with her in front of several members of the court, including Prince Sage. She hadn’t seen the guard since then.   
She took a slow breath and corrected her aim to hit the squirrel in the neck. But before she could loose the arrow, a transparent one made its home in her prey’s hide. She whirled, preparing to shoot whoever had done that with her own arrow.   
“Hey, I saw it first,” Rowan said, smirking. Did he ever stop smirking? He strode over and picked up the animal from where it’d fallen, yanking the arrow out and placing it back in its quiver.   
“If you weren’t royalty, you’d be dead right now,” Crystal said, glaring. Any fey with their right mind would never have shot one of Crystal’s prey. But, Rowan wasn’t any fey, and he also really wasn’t in his right mind either so…  
“Yes, you’re so frightening, Crys,” he snorted, using that stupid nickname again. Crystal blushed, much to her horror, and took a calming breath. In doing so, a wonderful scent entered her nostrils; a scent of pine, frost, and slightly mint. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from the prince and she blushed even harder.   
“Please stop calling me that,” she said through clenched teeth, thinking maybe she should start calling Rowan Ro or Rowie. Then, through further assessment, drew the conclusion that name calling would probably get her killed.   
“Why? It’s cute?” he said, packing up the squirrel in his saddle bag. He smiled full on at her and she knew, right then and there, that she was doomed.   
*****   
A blizzard hit right as they were about three miles out from the palace. Rowan suggested smartly that they take shelter in a nearby cave, both to rest themselves and the horses. They couldn’t see anything through the storm, anyway.   
After building a fire and making sure the horses were comfortable, they removed their quivers and coats. They sat near the warmth, Rowan cutting up and preparing the squirrel, and Crystal glaring ice spears into the fire. She contemplated sending a chill to blow it out but then realized that would also cause for them to have to eat raw squirrel, which was never good.   
“What did the fire ever do to you?” Rowan murmured, a grin pulling at one side of his mouth. “You look like you want to strangle it.”  
I would much rather strangle you, she thought. She found herself watching the prince as he pulled the fur from the animal. The firelight caused shadows to dance across his face like sensual spirits. It also set off the blue of his eyes. The tips of his ears were slightly pink from the heat. Her breath caught and she let herself confess inwardly. He was beautiful. And she wanted him.   
Crystal caught herself staring and looked away, towards Blackbird, who had laughter in his eyes. She gave him a dirty look. “You know, Crystal,” Rowan said, drawing her attention back to him. “I was just curious about something.”  
Shit. What could he be curious about? Her favorite color was light blue. Her favorite food was beef. She hated dresses. She loved hunting and horseback riding…  
“Is it true about what Taiothin said back during the night of the Winter Formal? About you being jealous of Narissa and I?” he asked, meeting her eyes, his full of devious intent.   
Crystal paused, schooling her face into one of boredom. “What a ridiculous notion,” she said flatly. “Taiothin was most likely drunk when she said that.”   
“Then why did you tell her to shut up, then threaten her, and then storm off to the stables?” he asked, grinning at her.   
She swallowed. “I get…claustrophobic,” she said. This was actually true.   
“You’re avoiding my question,” Rowan murmured, handing her a piece of squirrel. She reached out to take it but he quickly drew it back. “Not until you answer my first question.”  
She hated the smirk on his face and she hated her stupid heart. “Fine! Yes! I am – was – jealous. But, I’m not bothered about it anymore because if you want to have fun with that thing, I hope you get bruises from her teeth!” Bad move. She should never have said that. She’d just broken a thousand rules in talking to an Unseelie, much less an Unseelie Prince. But, she couldn’t stop herself. The words just escaped like blood.   
Rowan’s grin widened. “I knew it,” he said, handing her the squirrel leg, cooked and ready to be eaten. “As promised.”  
She snatched it from his hand, their fingers brushing. She’d lost her appetite but forced herself to eat, and to show no emotion on her face as she did so. Silence passed between them before Rowan spoke again.   
“She does kiss rather roughly,” he mused.   
Crystal did not respond, just kept eating her squirrel.   
“Narissa and I are not together, Crystal,” he said, the smirk gone from his face. “We are simply business partners and she was just thanking me for making sure she wasn’t in a certain duke’s debt.” He smiled again. “If you detest her so why didn’t you just kill her?”   
“Because I have better things to do,” Crystal said proudly.   
“Like me,” Rowan said, propping his chin on his hand and grinning deviously at her.   
She choked on her squirrel and gaped at him. “Excuse me?!” she exclaimed. She heard Blackbird snort with a horse’s version of laughter.   
“Crystal, do you think I don’t notice these things? Do you think you could mask your desires when the one you desire is two centuries older than you and with much more experience?” Rowan drawled, finishing off his meal.   
Crystal just stared blankly at him. Shit, she thought. Well, she’d just have to improvise. She shrugged. “Worth a try,” she mused. She tossed her squirrel bone into the flames and rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them.   
“I knew it would draw you,” he said, pulling at a loose thread on the knee of his pants.   
“What?” Crystal asked, confused.   
“The rose I sent? It was the last one blooming in Mab’s garden. Thankfully, she gave me permission to send it,” Rowan told her, his eyes holding an icy intensity that drew her even further under his spell.   
Crystal now felt rather guilty for throwing it out her window. “Oh,” was all she could say. “Well, it was…lovely.” She couldn’t lie and she couldn’t meet his eyes. She certainly couldn’t really breathe as she felt Rowan scoot around the fire to sit next to her, very close.   
“Good,” he said, surprising her. She looked up and met his gaze. Very bad move. “Because it was from my heart.”  
And Rowan leaned forward and kissed her.


	13. Warm Affections

The first thing Crystal thought, when she could think, was that he tasted like squirrel. She froze as his lips met hers, cold and soft. Her muscles tensed but soon relaxed when she realized she was not going to be attacked.  
But she could not kiss him back. She was still slightly shocked. So when he pulled away after a few moments to look her in the eyes, she said, “what was that for?”  
Rowan smiled. “I think you know what that was for, sweetheart,” he purred. She didn’t have time to throw back a retort before he kissed her again. This time she let go a little and returned the gesture, bringing her hands up to either side of his face. She felt him grin slightly and he deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue against her lips.   
Crystal’s hands found their way to his spiky hair as she let him part her lips with his. She wasn’t sure she would ever remember how the act of breathing worked as his tongue swept in to battle for dominance with hers. She never thought her heart could beat this hard.   
Blackbird’s snort and the snap of a twig forced them to pull apart. They were both breathless as Crystal twisted around to look at the mouth of the cave. Someone or something was near – and hungry, she could feel it.   
“Seems as if we have company,” Rowan said lowly, hesitantly pulling away from Crystal and drawing his sword, staying in the shadows near the mouth of the cave. Crystal drew her own weapons and went on the other side of the entrance. It was a moment before Crystal remembered to breathe that a creature stumbled through the cave entrance.   
Rowan pounced, pointing the tip of his sword to the creature’s throat. It squealed and raised its hackles. Crystal frowned and took a moment to study the creature closer. It looked almost like a cat, but with longer ears and spikier fur. Its eyes glowed yellow in the dimness of the cave and it donned sharp white teeth – two sets of them.   
The creature hissed and bared its teeth, shivering with the cold. It was a Summer creature. Why was a Summer creature in winter territory?  
“What is your purpose here?” Rowan snarled at it, smiling cruelly as he herded it back against the cave wall, trapping it.   
“You’ll all die! Every last one of you shits will be blown to bits in this war!” The creature screeched.   
Crystal had heard enough. She sliced down with her knife with lightning speed, cutting the creature in half. “You won’t be there to see it,” she said to the body that was now becoming a bunch of flower petals.   
“What do you think it meant?” Rowan asked her. “When it said we’ll all be ‘blown to bits’?” The smirk was gone from his face and slight worry replaced it. He hesitantly sheathed his sword.  
“Perhaps it is a new weapon?” Crystal suggested. “Or maybe it was referring to Titania using her powers?” She wasn’t sure, but it bothered her. The notion of Summer having created a new weapon unnerved her.   
“Well, whatever it is, we should get back to warn the Queen. She’ll want any information she can get on Summer and their plans,” Rowan said, stepping over and sitting down by the fire. “We leave as soon as the storm lets up.”  
“But there has been no formal declaration of war, yet,” Crystal brought up. “You don’t think Summer will attack without declaration?”  
“No, they’re not that stupid,” Rowan smirked. Crystal sat down across from him, sheathing her blades. “You should get some rest; you’ve been awake all day.”  
Crystal glanced at Rowan. “Who needs rest?” she said. As if on cue, she yawned, suddenly quite sleepy. “Maybe I’ll just rest for a bit…” she said, getting comfortable on the ground. She was out instantly.   
Sometime in the night, Crystal awoke from a nightmare, panic gripping her. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tried to shift, only to find the strong arm draped over her side pull her closer. She let herself relax against the prince, rather liking the feel of his cold breath on the back of her neck. He shifted and groaned in his sleep, burying his face against her shoulder blades.   
So he was having a nightmare, too. She stared into the darkness, listening to Blackbird’s soft whickers and the lessening storm outside. Soon, darkness pulled her under in sleep once more.   
*****  
“Crystal, dear! Why don’t we go for some tea in the courtyard?” the Duchess chimed. “We haven’t had some quality time together in a while!”   
It’s only been a week, Crystal thought as she sheathed her blade. She’d been doing some afternoon drills in an old abandoned room with a piano in it when her mother had interrupted her. Thankfully, she’d waited until a break between one of Crystal’s drills to suggest tea.   
“Um…sure, I guess,” Crystal said, knowing that a suggestion from her mother was more like a command. “Tea sounds great!” She tried to sound enthused.   
“Wonderful, dear!” Her mother took her arm and pulled her toward the kitchen. “I wanted to speak with you about something important, anyways.”  
Oh, goodie.   
After pouring them both a cup of Wintermint tea, the best in Tir Na Nog, the Duchess led Crystal out to the empty courtyard. Crystal’s brow furrowed slightly, wondering what this could be about.   
Her mother sighed. “Well, Elysium is tomorrow, and it will be a great challenge restraining myself from ripping out that flowery bitch’s eyes,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. She must be talking about Titania.   
“How do you think Mab feels?” Crystal smirked, taking a sip of her own tea, letting the sharp minty taste coat her mouth. It reminded her of Rowan, and she felt her cheeks heat slightly as she recalled last night in the cave. Nothing like that had transpired afterward. In fact, the trip home was rather silent.   
The Duchess eyed her strangely. “That was another thing that I wanted to talk to you about,” she said lowly, her eyes becoming dangerous.   
Crystal swallowed, masking her face with the emotion of a rock. “Oh? And what’s that?” she asked lightly, as if nothing were wrong.   
“You know what I’m going to say, child,” her mother replied sternly. “It is very dangerous to become involved with a Winter prince, mostly Prince Rowan of all.” The Duchess leaned against the frozen fountain, studying Crystal.   
“I don’t…know what you’re talking about, mother,” Crystal said, her voice a whisper. “Rowan and I are-”  
“Crystal, listen to me,” her mother said, the intensity in her voice drawing Crystal’s attention. “Do you know what those princes do? To unsuspecting young girls like you?”  
“I am not young!” Crystal exclaimed. She shut her mouth once she realized she’d interrupted her mother.   
“You are younger than they are, though,” the Duchess continued. “Crystal, if you dig yourself too deep in this trench, you won’t be able to escape. The trench will swallow you and destroy you bit by bit until there is nothing left but bones and ruin!”  
“I love how you compare Prince Rowan to a trench, mother. Very fitting,” Crystal smirked, taking another sip of tea.   
Her mother only sighed in exasperation and stepped up to her daughter. She tucked a loose hair behind her child’s ear. The Duchess was a few inches taller than Crystal but in heels, Crystal and her mother were nearly the same height.   
“I just don’t want my baby to get hurt,” the Duchess whispered, quiet enough that only Crystal could hear. She kissed her daughter once on the forehead and pulled back to look in her eyes, the eyes of the Duchess’s late husband. The eyes of Crystal’s father.   
“He won’t hurt me, mother,” Crystal whispered back. “No one can hurt me, least of all him.” She paused, making sure her mother understood.   
“I promise.”


	14. Elysium

Crystal watched the dancers swirl around the icy ballroom floor, a cacophony of blues, whites, blacks, and silvers. She’d opted to wear a dress tonight, one she had discovered in her closet, although this one was not as girly as the one she donned for the Winter Formal. The dress she wore tonight was more deadly, the material black with sharp silver in the back, creating a design that looked as if the silver was her spine. The bodice was, however, unfortunately tight, accentuating her curves and assets.   
She was not quite sure why she’d chosen to wear it. Perhaps it had something to do with impressing Rowan….No. The idea was completely ridiculous.   
Crystal’s eyes flicked over toward the table where the royals sat, along with her mother, who Mab had specifically requested join the meeting – probably for moral support against Titania, who did not have a second Summer sidhe besides Oberon. Puck did not exactly count. Speaking of which, where was he?  
Someone cleared their throat next to her and she stiffened. She recognized the smell of a summer faery, although this one more rugged and wild. “Since this whole thing is supposed to be a nice, friendly, let’s-have-a-cup-of-tea gathering or whatever,” Puck spoke up, “how would you like a dance? You look like you’re about to fall asleep out of boredom.”  
Crystal turned and faced the Summer jester, his fiery red hair uncombed and messy. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and brown trousers with black boots. She noticed absently that goose bumps had sprouted up along his arms.   
“And why in the name of all that is good would you want to dance with me?” Crystal sniped, challenging him. His eyes gleamed and an evil smirk played at his lips.   
“Well, let’s see. You’re gorgeous, for one. Second, any other winter sidhe would refuse me. Third, you are glaring at the basilisk with as much hatred and annoyance as I feel every time she talks to me so…” Puck held out his hand. “Time is wasting, Princess.”  
Crystal opened and closed her mouth in shock. “What-”  
“Great! I knew you’d say yes,” Puck chirped and grabbed her hand, pulling her onto the dance floor. He kept a respectful distance, however, and Crystal hesitantly placed her hands on his shoulders. Warmth greeted her palms and she bristled slightly.   
“Titania is rather…difficult,” Crystal whispered. Puck nodded.   
“She tried to turn me into a toad once. That was rather unpleasant. But, then, one of the knights she was banging at the time interrupted and I was freed,” Puck told Crystal, rather loudly.   
She smacked his arm. “She’ll hear you! And don’t use such vulgar language!” She’d only heard human sailors use that term he’d used.   
“Relax, Princess, nothing will happen. I can’t be blamed for speaking the truth,” he smirked, his green eyes sparkling.   
Crystal sighed. He was much older than she was, she reminded herself. He could talk his way out of anything. “Stop calling me that,” she whispered. “I have a name, you know.”   
“I know,” he replied, smiling. “But, you like it, admit it.”  
Crystal swallowed. She could not deny it. She did, in fact, like it, but the day she would admit that weakness to Robin Goodfellow was the day Tir Na Nog melted. She tried not to study Puck as hard as she previously was. She’d never had a taste for Summer sidhe but Puck was an exception.   
He opened his mouth to say something but immediately closed it and his eyes flicked over her shoulder at the same time that she felt his presence.   
“Don’t mind if I cut in, do you, Goodfellow,” Rowan almost snarled as he approached them both, clearly holding himself back from turning the jester into an icicle.   
“Oh no! Please, be my guest,” Puck grinned, giving Crystal a little push toward the prince. “I don’t suggest nicknames; she might try to freeze your balls off,” Puck warned. Crystal threw a small icicle at his head.   
Puck immediately used his glamour to turn it into a small daisy, which he placed behind his ear, grinning impishly at her. He waved and left them, stepping into the crowd and heading toward the punch table. Of course.   
Rowan looked pretty much like an angry penguin as he pulled Crystal into a dance. “I hate him,” he grumbled. Crystal rolled her eyes and placed her hands on his shoulders.   
“Let it go, Rowan. He’s not worth it, and is that glitter on your cheeks?” she hissed. “Where-”  
“Your mother graced me with a little package of snow sprinkle this morning. Said it would cover up some dirt in the pores, whatever that means,” Rowan said, his foul expression morphing instantly to his usual smirk. “Admit it, you think it’s cute.”  
“It makes you look girly,” she snapped, glaring at him, then her mother from over his shoulder. The Duchess spotted her daughter’s menacing glare and smiled, cheerfully waving back. She blew a small frigid kiss her way.   
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the prince murmured and tugged her closer so that the only space between them was the small space between their faces. “Tell me more,” he purred, leaning closer, his cool breath enveloping her face.  
She slapped him across the face. Not enough to bruise or leave a mark but enough to get his attention. “We’re in public!” she snapped. “Mind yourself. Your mother and mine would not find it amusing.” She glanced over at the table warily.  
Rowan was apparently a bit shocked, as he stared at her with wide eyes and rubbed the place where she’d hit him. But he was smiling. “It’s strictly forbidden and greatly disrespectful to assault your prince, Lady Crystal,” his grin became wicked. “Perhaps I’ll have to punish you,” he purred, leaning in and nipping at her earlobe.   
Her face flushed bright red and she sucked in a breath. “Rowan, not here,” she whispered. “Like I said, we’re in-”  
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Just enjoy the dance,” he replied, the tip of his tongue flicking out to brush along the skin just under her ear. Heat crawled its way up through her body, all the way to her core. She glanced at the royal’s table to find them deep in conversation, ignoring the goings on.   
Crystal almost growled. “This way,” she said, pulling away from him only to tug him through the crowd, shoving an unfortunate Summer girl out of the way as she walked past. She pulled Rowan out of the room and down the hall. Crystal’s bones were on fire and she would freeze anyone who got in her way.   
She found a corner alcove cloaked in shadows and pushed him in, pulling him against her and kissing him as if she were drowning and he were air. He responded immediately, pushing his tongue inside her mouth and running his hands along her curves. She let a small sound escape from her throat as he pulled his lips from hers to trail a path of sloppy kisses down her neck. She felt him continue on along her collarbone and she fought the urge to moan. If they made any remotely loud noises, they were at risk of being heard.   
“What is wrong with your room, or mine?” Rowan asked, breathless, as he took her bottom lip between his teeth.  
“It’s literally a five minute walk from here!” she hissed, pouncing on him, quite literally. She threw her legs around his waist and his hands went to support her, holding her rear. He groaned as she kissed him again, biting down on his lower lip.   
“Crystal, I-” he began, but a sound close by made them both freeze.   
Rowan quickly detangled himself from her, and she reluctantly let him, smoothing her dress and hair. The both stood listening for a moment before Rowan’s eyes narrowed and he pressed a finger to his lips. He drew a dagger from his boot and slowly stepped out into the hallway.   
“All right, it’s clear,” he said quietly. “No one’s-”  
His sharp intake of breath and a harsh whisper made Crystal’s heart skip a beat. “Now you won’t be able to save your little whore,” a harsh snarl came from around the corner of the alcove.   
Crystal rushed out, knife drawn, and almost screamed at the sight of Rowan slumped over as if he’d been kicked in the gut, a dagger through his stomach, the hilt held by a Summer male sidhe. She rushed forward, drawing glamour to her. Then, she froze.  
The sidhe yanked his dagger out of Rowan’s stomach and shoved him against the wall with his boot. Rowan grunted and held his middle, suddenly too weak to stand. He pitifully slid to the floor, leaving a grotesque red streak on the icy wall behind him. A scream lodged itself in Crystal’s throat but no sound would escape her mouth. She looked back to the sidhe and her heart stopped this time.   
“Looking for something, sweetheart?” Snare grinned evilly, twirling his bloody dagger.


	15. A Declaration of War

It was like someone had implanted wildfire and ice into Crystal at the same time. First, it was heat that surged through her body in pure rage. And then came the deadly cold. There were several reasons why Snare was alive, but Crystal didn’t really care. It simply annoyed her that he wasn’t dead.   
But it enraged her that he would even have the audacity to attempt to kill a winter prince in his own home. Her winter prince. “What do you want, Snare?” she snarled, trying to keep calm. Her hands shook with the itch to unleash a flurry of living icicles at him.   
Rowan watched from the floor, grimacing as he held his middle and slowly began to reach for the ice dagger at his boot.   
“Oh, that’s easy, darling,” he smirked, twirling the bloody dagger around. “I want you and the prince’s heads on a platter!” he said, flicking his hand. A flurry of needles flew at Crystal but she simply turned them to snowflakes and batted them away.   
“You’ve got a lot of courage coming in here and making an attempt on Prince Rowan’s life – and mine, for that matter,” she said, a plan forming in her head. She fought the urge to cringe as she heard Rowan attempt to get to his feet, but winced and slumped back down to the floor. Why was he acting so weak? she thought. He was a better fighter than this!   
“Of course. It was all planned out. Winter has smuggled goods from Summer’s camps for long enough. It’s time you all were punished,” Snare growled, his veins beginning to glow with his glamour.   
How was he able to harness so much glamour outside of his home territory? Crystal noticed Rowan’s movements as he tried to grab the ice dagger from his boot. Snare seemed not to have noticed, or if he had, he was ignoring him.   
She thought too soon.   
“Oh, yes, of course. I almost forgot,” Snare was saying arrogantly. “Once the poison sets in, it will be like his mind never existed.” He grinned, stepping closer to Crystal. Now that he was closer she did notice a bit of sickly green substance still coated on the Summer sidhe’s weapon. “He’ll be screaming for his dear mother to end his life,” he continued.   
“No, he won’t,” Crystal said flatly. She stood perfectly still, tracking Snare’s movements as he paced around her with her eyes and ears. “Because the first life his dear mother will end…is yours.”  
And she screamed.   
The sound echoed throughout the icy hallways, alerting anything and everything around the palace of their location. The scream caught Snare off guard, and he flinched, distracted for a moment. That moment was all Crystal needed to draw one of her small finger knives and flick it at Snare’s thigh. It hit home in a matter of a millisecond.   
Snare’s yelp of pain was one of the best things she’d heard that day. As he bent to pull the small weapon out of his skin, Crystal danced behind him, kicking him in the knees and holding an ice dagger to his throat. She pressed the blade hard against his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.   
Her heart cried with joy as she registered footsteps running their way. Soon enough, the royals and nobles rounded the corner, Sage and Ash with swords drawn and her mother a living shadow with pale white eyes. She didn’t need a weapon when she already was one.  
The small crowd jerked to a halt as they took in the sight, and someone pushed through the mass to look at her son. Mab’s face was oddly blank, as if this was a normal occurrence. But Crystal knew better. She knew deep down that Mab was beyond furious. Crystal felt a chill run down her spine.   
Titania and Oberon emerged soon after, the Summer King’s face a mask of shock and fury. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.   
“Snare! What are you doing?” Titania gasped, eyes a roiling thunderstorm. She looked as if she wanted to say something else.   
“This pathetic worm tried to murder Prince Rowan,” Crystal said, her hand itching to draw the blade across his throat.   
Speaking of which, Rowan just then let out a cry of agony and slumped over, clutching his side. He’d gone paler than normal and his eyes were watery. Sweat gathered on his skin and he seemed to have trouble breathing.   
Two ghostly like figures emerged from the crowd and bent down beside Rowan. It took Crystal a moment to realize that they were healers. She couldn’t see their faces behind their white cloaks. Their hands were literally skeletons but they were gentle as one placed its hand on the prince’s forehead.   
“Won’t be long now,” Snare hissed, and a nasty smile pulled at his lips. “Poison will set it, then he’ll be choking on his own blood!”  
Mab silently stepped forward, her fingers calmly moving. Crystal felt Snare tense. “And what, dear Snare, is your purpose for making a quite pathetic attempt on my son’s life?” Her black eyes bored into his and Crystal could taste the fear he emanated.   
But instead of Snare answering, it was Titania who stepped forward, the shock no longer lingering on her face. “Because, Lady Mab, I told him to.”  
There was a tense pause throughout the room. Sage’s wolf growled and Ash shifted from foot to foot, glaring at the Summer Queen. “I ordered Snare to kill him, although why he did such a poor job at it is beyond my calculations,” Titania continued, rolling her eyes as she said the last part.   
“Forgive me, my lady, I-” But Mab simply flicked her hand and Snare made a choking sound, his chest heaving but his lungs unable to take in air. His throat had been frozen shut. Crystal curled her lip in disgust and let him drop to the floor. He clawed at his throat, choking on air.   
“Perhaps, dear Titania, that you would like to explain yourself?” the Duchess said, stepping in front of the Summer Queen and baring her now sharp teeth. She was still in her shadow form, her shadows writhing about and fighting to hold themselves back from devouring Titania.   
“Titania, what is this?” Oberon demanded. “What are you thinking? You can’t possibly…” He trailed off as his wife smiled arrogantly. Her face was terrible and beautiful at the same time as her smile turned evil. Rowan winced from where he was on the ground and Crystal fought not to spring toward him. Worry etched along her gut, making her impatient.   
“Because, dear husband,” Titania spoke. “I wanted to. Winter has harassed us for too long, stealing from our camps along the border! Murdering our spies in cold blood!” A few redcaps laughed at her poorly chosen words. But the Queen merely ignored them. “It has been enough. It is time for a little change.”  
The Duchess transformed back into her normal sidhe form. “Take him to his chambers and see he is treated properly,” she addressed the healers. They said nothing, only nodded and one scooped up the prince easily in its arms. The prince grimaced again and let his head droop over the healer’s arm. They quickly whisked him away out of the room and out of Crystal’s sight.  
“Your attempt on my son’s life has stated change enough, Titania,” Mab’s words brought Crystal back to the conversation. “Winter will not stand for it!” Frost crept over every surface in the room, except maybe the living things.   
“Indeed, Lady Mab! From now this is war between Summer and Winter!” Titania smiled again, her face a mask of pure evil. “And I do wish you luck on the battlefield. You’re certainly going to need it.”  
Without another word she turned and marched out of the room, her train of servants following her. Snare watched from his spot still on the ground. He tried calling out to her, reaching out for his Queen. But, she ignored him.   
Oberon sighed wearily, his eyes full of ancient shadows and troubles. “I do wish this had not occurred, Lady Mab,” he tried at an apology. He bowed his head, his antlered crown catching the moonlight. “Until we meet again, my lady,” he said.   
Mab watched him intently, her black eyes full of hate. “Until then, Lord Oberon,” she snarled. The rest of the Summer attendants left behind the king, Puck meeting Crystal’s gaze as he passed, a remorseful look upon his handsome face.   
Change would happen, Crystal could feel it. Mab stepped away from Snare. “Take this piece of dirt to the dungeons; I’ll speak with him later,” she ordered as she walked away, followed closely by the Duchess, who threw a dark look in her daughter’s direction.   
Crystal pushed through the crowd, sheathing her dagger. She had to find Rowan and make sure he was all right. Now that the two courts were officially at war, they would need every soldier they could get. She hurried down the hall, picturing Rowan lying on his bed in pain and silently cursing the lump in her throat.


	16. Ghosts

All he knew was pain. Pain that lanced throughout every inch and pore of his skin and bones. The wound in his side throbbed and it felt as if every atom in the air were trying to tear him apart, bit by bit. He supposed that’s what summerjade poison did to one’s body.   
His mind strayed briefly to the female sidhe who’d held his attacker at knife point. Her long snowy white hair and piercing blue eyes and royal complexion would not leave his mind. Nor would the way she’d looked at him when she first saw the Summer faery holding him on the dagger.   
The way her face had constricted in fear and shock for half a second.   
The way rage had quickly overtaken the fear…  
The way she had reacted as if she were a mother snow leopard guarding her young while facing off a wyvern.  
The way she looked….  
Like she almost….  
……cared…..

When Crystal found Rowan’s chambers, one of his guards, Edgebriar, had been posted outside his door. The guard regarded Crystal with icy eyes, devoid of feeling. “Is he alive?” she demanded.  
“He is resting,” Edgebriar said, a bit irritated, after a long pause.   
“May I see him?” Crystal was about an inch away from tearing out the guards eyes for the way he assessed her like she was a specimen to experiment on. She glared at him for all she was worth, daring him to challenge her.   
He took his sweet time answering. “You will have to ask the phantoms.” He then proceeded to ignore her, although he kept one hand on his sword hilt. Ha. As if that little stick would protect him.   
Crystal looked around, about to demand of him exactly which phantoms he was speaking of, when one of the ghostly healers emerged from the door. But, Crystal noticed, without opening the door first. So, they really were ghosts, then. Interesting, Crystal thought.   
You may see him now, but be quick. He is still in a state of much pain and a bit of shock. Do not linger too long, the ghost spoke to Crystal through his mind.   
Crystal shivered as she watched it float away down the hall. It was eerie to have the voice in her head. It was raspy and a bit breathy, and it emanated cold. As if the ghost never experienced happiness in its previous life.   
Taking a deep breath, she turned the doorknob and slowly eased it open. She quickly stepped over the threshold into the dimly lit room, her eyes immediately adjusting to the sudden darkness. Two candles on the prince’s nightstand did not do much to help.   
Crystal hesitated slightly before slowly approaching the side of the bed where Rowan lay, shirtless and asleep, although restlessly. Sweat collected at his temples and forehead, and his brows were furrowed slightly as if he were having a nightmare. She quietly pulled a stool up next to his bed and sat so that she was at his level. She tensed when she felt that strange chill, and looked over to the corner to find the other ghostly healer watching her from the shadows.   
She swallowed and held its gaze, trying to communicate that she meant the prince no harm. It must have finally got her message because it turned around and continued its mission of mixing together a tonic – probably for the pain.   
Crystal turned back to find Rowan had shifted his position, his head now turned towards her. His eyes slowly fluttered open and roamed for a bit before landing on her. He has a fever, she thought. Worry escalated in her gut, and she folded her hands together.  
“How are you feeling, your Highness?” she asked quietly, trying to remain diplomatic in the presence of a healer. The ghosts might find it a bit odd if she called Rowan by his name.   
He blinked slowly at her before swallowing. “Like shit,” was his raspy answer. He smirked slightly and some relief pushed back the worry. But then, he winced. “Everything hurts like a fucking bitch. It feels as if…I’m on fire…” he groaned and rolled over, fumbling for something on the nightstand.   
Crystal glanced over to see it was a glass of water. She quickly grabbed it before he knocked it over and handed it to him, helping him hold it. He took a sip and then a gulp of the substance before flopping back down against the pillow.   
The ghostly healer floated over silently, holding a wooden cup of a thick green substance. Rowan looked from the creature to the substance and back again. “I am not drinking that!” he protested. There was more silence. Then Rowan shook his head. “No, I refuse.” The healer must have been speaking to the prince from his mind, like the other one had with Crystal.   
“Your Highness, it will help,” Crystal tried, begging him with her eyes to just drink the damn stuff.   
Rowan hesitated again before sighing and taking the cup, cautiously sniffing the substance inside and making a face. “If you say so,” he muttered. He downed the cup impressively and without vomiting it back up, which surprised Crystal. The stuff truly did smell awful, like rotten seaweed and burning rubber.   
The healer took the cup and left to clean up its supplies. Crystal absently reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind Rowan’s ear. He met her eyes and smirked slightly, although his eyes were heavy.   
“So you can be kind,” he whispered as the healer, thankfully, left the room.   
“Don’t mention it,” Crystal replied, finding the floor suddenly very fascinating. She could feel his stare on her and felt her cheeks heat. “We’re officially at war with Summer now,” she told him, changing the subject.   
His expression turned serious. “I’m honestly surprised Goodfellow didn’t start it,” he muttered. Crystal twiddled her thumbs. She knew Mab would want Rowan to recover quickly in order to be able to fight in the war. Worry returned with a vengeance in her gut.   
“How long until you’ll be able to fight, do you think?” Crystal asked him. He closed his eyes and shook his head.   
“I don’t know, probably a day or two,” he said, pushing the covers down a bit, using his glamour to make the room decidedly colder. Frost crept over the window and Crystal tried her best not to glance at his godlike torso.   
Apparently, she wasn’t doing a very good job because Rowan was smirking at her again. She glared and clenched her jaw. “If you say anything, your Highness, I might have to kill you,” she said, although not meaning any of it.   
Rowan smiled and laughed as best he could. “Crystal, back in the cave…I really did mean what I said – about the rose.” His face turned serious. “I wasn’t joking around-”  
“How am I supposed to believe you?” Crystal demanded, suddenly angry. “How do I know you’re not just playing with me like you do all of your other human whores?” Her own frost joined his around the room, making a crinkling sound on the window. She did not really care if it broke – it wasn’t her window. “How can I ever trust you with me?”  
Rowan was silent. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and he said the two words she feared the most. “You can’t.”


	17. Omens

Crystal usually did not dream. But tonight, she had a nightmare. She walked down the hall of the ice palace, the moon her only light. She was searching for something, yet she could not be sure what it was. Or who it was. Just then, someone grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her up against the wall. She felt her back pop at the force and made ready to grab her knife.   
But she stopped when she saw two beautiful blue eyes staring into hers. “You did not think I would really hurt you, did you?” Rowan murmured as he pressed his lips to hers, not giving her a chance to respond.   
She kissed him back, even though her instincts were screaming at her not to, that this was somehow wrong. She ignored her instincts and let out a groan as his teeth scraped along her jaw. She opened her eyes to look at him and felt her stomach sink to her feet.   
“Well, you’re wrong,” Snare grinned evilly and pushed the blade of his poisoned dagger slowly into Crystal’s heart….

Crystal woke up screaming. She looked around wildly, thinking Snare might be in the room with her. She grabbed her knife from under her pillow and gripped it tightly, her knuckles growing white. Once she realized she was alone, she slowly got out of bed, trying to calm her still-racing heart.   
She pulled on black pants and a clean black long sleeved shirt and boots, strapping her knife belt around her waist. She had to find Snare and get information from him. Something told her the dungeon guards were not going to get very far with a faery like that, be him Summer or no.   
She pulled her hair back into a sleek ponytail and crept out of her room. She walked silently down the hall, hoping it wasn’t too difficult to find the dungeons. After turning down a few halls and encountering the occasional redcap gang playing cards, she came to a door at the end of one hall. Two guards stood beside it, their black armor hiding their faces from view.   
“I’d like to speak to the latest prisoner,” she said firmly, holding her head high. The guards did not move. Then, one nodded and opened the door to the dungeons. Crystal stepped through and partially regretted her decision as the guard closed the door behind her, plunging her into complete darkness. She took a breath and conjured a faery light, blue illuminating the cavern-like surroundings.  
She followed the path through a narrow tunnel, being careful not to touch the walls, which were covered in some sticky green substance. As she ventured farther into the tunnels, she could hear moans and cries of agony and despair emanating from the lower cells.   
She cringed. It smelled awful in here and she did not know which cell Snare was in. There were hundreds of them. Swallowing, she approached the guard at the top of a staircase leading down into the lower chambers – the torture chambers.   
“I am looking for the Summer spy,” she said simply, hoping the guard would not be too difficult. He turned his mangled head and looked at her and she fought to wrinkle her nose in disgust. His face looked like it had been badly burned and then mauled by a dog and never healed properly. He grumbled low in his throat and motioned for her to follow him. There was a bit of dim lighting down in the lower cells. Crystal put away her faery light and followed Ugly into the low tunnel, lined with cells both empty and full.   
Most of its occupants were Summer fey, sidhe and non. Although, some of the occupants were of Winter. Traitors and thieves mostly. She shook her head and disregarded their pleading looks as she passed by them.   
The guard led her to a room at the end of the tunnel, lit by lanterns along the walls. Inside the room was a large fireplace, several instruments of torture covered in rust, and a few guards. And in the center of the room was a wooden post, Snare with his wrists strapped to it, shirtless and donning about thirty lashes across his back. Crystal was surprised there was any skin left.   
The guard with the whip paused at her entrance and nodded. “Evening, lady,” he greeted cheerfully. “What brings you down here at this hour?” He grinned, showing several missing teeth and possibly what mortals called gum disease.   
“I’m here to speak with the prisoner on the subject of the upcoming war,” she said, her hand resting on the hilt of her knife.   
“Well, best of luck to you. All I’ve been able to get out of him is that Summer is building a weapon that can make the ground spit, or something like that,” he said. He folded the whip up and tossed it on top of a barrel. “Feel free to use anything you like, miss,” he leered, gesturing to the tools on the wall. “I suggest the scalpel. That always gets them.” His grin was possibly the most hideous thing Crystal had seen in a long time.   
She nodded and the guards – all but one – left the room. She approached Snare slowly, as she would a wounded deer, her knife drawn. Snare breathed heavily and Crystal saw that his jaw was clenched, probably to keep from screaming.   
She stepped up beside him and placed the tip of her blade under his chin, making him look at her. She almost smiled when she saw his cheeks streaked with tears. “I need you to tell me what I request of you,” she said quietly. She kept her blade where it was, not drawing blood just yet.   
He swallowed and blinked. “Fuck you,” he whispered. His eyes burned with a deep hatred she only recognized all too well.   
She shrugged and pulled away from him, going over to a bucket on a low shelf. Steam emanated from a thick black substance inside that she only recognized as tar. A ladle and a large paint brush sat beside it. “We can do this the hard and painful way, Snare, or you can tell me what I want to know,” she said.   
Crystal glanced back at the Summer faery. “It’s your choice.”  
Snare took a breath and looked from the bucket to her. He was silent.   
So be it.   
Crystal took the paint brush and dipped it in. Something inside her did not want to do this, but she had to get information. She heard a hitch of breath behind her as she pulled the brush out, letting the thick tar drip from it.   
She turned to look at him, narrowing her eyes at his fresh tears. “It’s your choice, Snare. Really.”   
“The…Summer court…has made a weapon inspired by the humans,” Snare whispered. Crystal approached him slowly with the tar covered brush, just to intimidate him. “They plan t-to introduce it in the midst of the battles…” he trailed off and glanced away from the brush. His knees shook and sweat had beaded on his skin.   
“Go on,” she murmured.   
“It can decimate about fifty fey at a time, maybe more,” he said. “It is their strongest weapon.”   
“What else?” Crystal was standing beside him now.   
“I don’t know – that’s all Titania told me of it. She wouldn’t let me see it; said it was for my own good.” He swallowed again and glanced fearfully at the brush.   
“What else?” she pressed him.   
“They…are planning using guerilla warfare in the beginning – to throw your army off…” his face contorted in pain and he buried his face against his bound wrists. “That’s all I know, I swear!”   
“You are a coward,” Crystal murmured. She tossed the brush back into the bucket and hurried out of the room, not wanting to look at the calamity that was his back any longer. She winced and clenched her jaw as she heard the bucket being grabbed.   
She ran from the tunnels and from that awful place as she heard Snare’s howl of pure agony echo through the chambers.


	18. The Locket

Winter was preparing for war. They would travel to the forests circling the perimeter of the Reaping Fields and make camp there until the day of the first battle. Sidhe heaved packs of food, weapons, clothes, and other supplies onto the backs of huge war horses with blazing blue eyes.   
Crystal stood polishing one of her daggers – a rather fancy one at that – as she leaned against a frosty tree near the courtyard. She watched as Snowberry (why the daffodil was marching off to war in the first place was beyond Crystal’s comprehension) made an effort to heft a heavy looking pack onto the back of a tall gray mare.   
Amusingly, Prince Ash strode by and glanced at her as the pack won the battle and fell to the ground, almost pulling Snowberry with it. She looked at the prince sheepishly and Crystal smirked as she witnessed the faery’s cheeks turn rosy. Disappointingly, Ash sighed and lifted the pack onto the horse’s back without any problems.   
Well, they did need all the supplies, and Snowberry certainly wasn’t getting anywhere with them.   
Crystal spotted Rowan approaching her with two Thornguards following close behind. He had a bit of a limp and was fighting to hide a wince. It had only been a day or so since he’d been attacked.   
Instead of meeting his blue gaze, she simply pretended not to see him and turned away, walking over to where Blackbird was saddled and bridled. He snorted at her arrival and nudged her with his nose.   
“Sorry, no snacks this time,” she told him. “Although…” she paused and glanced at Rowan, who had changed to entertaining himself with (cringe) Narissa. Why she was also marching off to war was beyond Crystal.   
“Crystal, dear,” the voice of her mother startled her and she jumped slightly.   
“What? Yes, I’m here,” she sputtered, distracted.   
“Goodness, daughter, you must not be unaware! We are in a time of war and you are drooling over Winter Princes! Come down to earth will you?” her mother snapped, smacking Crystal with a roll of parchment. Probably the inventory list.   
Crystal blinked and shook herself, sighing. “Yes, I understand, Mother,” she said through clenched teeth.   
The Duchess’s voice and expression changed to that of devious intent and she smirked, her eyes glinting. “Although it looked a moment ago as if you wanted to murder him,” she observed.   
Crystal blinked again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied.   
The Duchess laughed and shook her head. “I told you not to get involved with them – him especially.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow at her daughter. It was the first time Crystal noticed that her mother was in pants and fighting leathers instead of a gaudy dress.   
“I’m…sorry,” was all she could manage. She glanced at her mother’s attire, astounded to see her this way. The last time the Duchess marched off to war to aid Winter was when Crystal was just a baby. She’d never seen her in battle attire until now.   
“Ah, I have something for you,” her mother said, noting her daughter’s eyes. She reached into her collar and produced a small silver locket, about the size of Crystal’s smallest fingernail. “This was your father’s. He always wore it in battle when he aided the Queen. It protected him. It is induced with powerful magic that must not be underestimated.”   
She clipped the pendant around Crystal’s neck and tucked it below her collar. “Here, keep it for now.” She smiled a sad smile and ran a thumb along her daughter’s cold cheek. “You might need it.”  
Crystal frowned. She’d been in war and other battles before; she knew how dangerous it was. But, her mother had never given this locket to her in the past when she’d been sent off to war. And after her father was killed…  
“After your father died, I couldn’t set foot on the battlefield again,” her mother told her quietly. “Always, he wore the locket, but on the last day of the battle with Summer, he removed it and gave it to me, saying that I would need it.” She hesitated and glanced down at her hands, her face a mask of minor confusion. She quickly swiped away a stray tear that threatened to spill over.   
“Little did I know he was a Seer. He foresaw that the battle was going to be bloodier than the previous and gave me the locket. He sacrificed himself for me. And for you, Crystal,” the Duchess continued. She swallowed. “Your father loved you deeply, dear. Know that.”   
Crystal watched as her mother smiled again and turned away, heading over to where her horse was waiting for her next to the Queen’s white stallion. She frowned. Her mother was an interesting individual. Usually, she would not show that much devotion to her in a public setting. She supposed that since they were going off to fight for Winter that keeping emotions in check didn’t really matter until the battlefield.   
Crystal shook herself once more and turned to swing up into the saddle. They would be heading out soon. She couldn’t stop thinking about what her mother said, about her father being a Seer. She’d never heard much about him as a child; her mother claimed it was a touchy subject. Still, she couldn’t push it out of her mind. And, furthermore, she couldn’t keep the chills from running down her spine when she spotted Mab watching her with deep, morbid black eyes.


	19. Soil Among Diamonds

Soft flakes of snow floated down upon the soldiers shoulders as they marched along the forest floor. The generals rode atop tall warhorses, stoic and faces full of empty expressions. Crystal rode atop Blackbird, lost in her thoughts.

She wondered what Summer's new weapon was, and how it worked. What Snare had told her in the dungeons had worried her, not only because he wasn't telling her all the information included, but also because of how he told it. He hadn't wanted to show it, but he was terrified, as well.

"You look troubled," a familiar voice said beside her. She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she turned to face Thistle. He gave her a small smile and it was the first time she noticed how radiant his eyes were.

"I...was just thinking, is all. About the upcoming war. Summer's new secret weapon that will apparently decimate us all," she said.

"Ah, yes. The talk of that spy, Snare, I think his name was," Thistle replied. He shifted in his saddle, reaching in his cloak pocket. He withdrew a small apple, about the size of an small orange. He handed it to Crystal. "You're hungry, I can tell. You get that look when you're hungry."

While this scene might have been rather creepy in Crystal's eyes, she was rather hungry. Her stomach growled as she hesitantly reached out and took the apple from his hand, their fingers brushing briefly. She took a bite and almost sighed as sweet juice filled her mouth.

At least Rowan wasn't bothering her. He rode several ranks up by Winterbrey and Mab. He had avoided her since their last interaction a couple nights ago. She didn't mind his absence at all. In fact, she was rather enjoying herself. She took another bite of apple and smiled to herself.

She didn't notice Thistle watching her with a strange look as she continued eating.

*******

The march through the forest finally came to a halt a few days later, the generals passing information down the ranks that they had reached the campsite. Crystal craned her neck to see past the trees. It was about two miles from the Reaping Fields.

"We have tomorrow to prepare for battle with Summer, then we march to the Fields," the general nearest to her told his troops. But Crystal wasn't listening. She spotted her mother up by Mab, apparently in deep conversation. It seemed as if the Duchess was not getting her way, judging by the look on her face and how cold it had grown in the past ten seconds.

The troops began to make camp and Crystal dismounted, wincing and discreetly rubbing her bottom from how sore it was. She had to remember to get a better saddle for Blackbird. She led him over to a nearby tree, unsaddled him and roped his reins loosely over a low hanging branch. After brushing him down and giving him a small chipmunk she'd caught earlier, she headed into the forest to find dinner for herself.

Night was falling and, despite her excellent eyesight, she preferred to hunt during the day; more animals were out anyway. She thought about what Snare had said in the dungeons. They had left him there, with only a disgusting little goblin to guard him. Although Crystal didn't know why; he wouldn't last very long.

When she returned to camp, pleased to see several blue bonfires built with soldiers sitting around them, laughing and drinking and sharing inappropriate jokes, she felt a sense of calmness envelope her. Yes, they were going to battle tomorrow, and many would not return. But now, they were all here, and everything was all right.

Well, almost everything.

"A small rabbit, that's it?" the irritatingly beautiful prince with blue eyes and divine lips said from behind her, his cold breath caressing the skin of her neck. She could just feel him smiling.

Crystal turned, glaring at him and wanting to freeze his lips together to keep him from smiling. But, in doing so, she would probably get frozen via Mab herself. "That's all I wanted, your Highness," she snarled, annoyed.

"Pity, I was going to share my much larger rabbit with you, but seeing that you've already caught one..." he smirked, waiting for her to take the hint.

She didn't. "Well, that sounds like a personal problem to me," she sniped, promptly turning her back on him. She got about two steps before she felt his cool hand on her elbow.

"Crystal, wait. Please," his voice was pleading now, his smile gone from his lips.

But Crystal didn't care. Didn't want to care. "Leave me alone, Rowan," was all she could force past her lips. She tried her best to also force the rising lump in her throat away, but it was a hard battle, especially with the troops of tears gathering behind her eyes along with the lump.

Rowan hesitated but let her go, watching as she walked briskly away from him, to the far side of the camp where there were only three soldiers sitting around a small fire. Crystal sat down beside a soldier she didn't know the name of and met Thistle's eyes across the fire. He was giving her that strange look again.

It was only now that she noticed the parts of a tattoo peeking up from under his shirt. Everyone was dressed in casual clothes, none of the armor they'd be wearing soon. Thistle's gaze suddenly dropped to her lips. Crystal dropped her gaze, her cheeks heating, and listened to the careless banter of the other soldiers.

It wasn't until the moon was almost at its peak in the sky that Crystal realized how long she'd been sitting there, staring into the fire. She'd watched Thistle retreat into his tent, wanting strangely to go after him. But, she'd hesitated. For four hours, apparently.

Now she clenched her teeth as she spotted Rowan gazing at her longingly from a few yards away, his blue eyes a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding the camp. The moon may have been out but the darkness of the forest outweighed it. Crystal abruptly rose and retreated away from the bonfire when she saw Rowan start to approach her.

Somehow, she found herself heading towards Thistle's tent. She needed an escape. She needed to forget about Rowan for a while. She needed to forget that she wanted him, and that she was scared of whether or not he would make it through the battle or not.

Thistle looked up as she ducked under the tent flap, hoping to convey what she wanted through her eyes. He froze and met her gaze, letting the hunger sitting in his green eyes finally show.

There was only two candles on his nightstand, and Crystal was thankful for them to hide her blush as she wordlessly approached him and pressed her cold lips to his. Thistle hesitated for only a moment, waiting to see if this was a cruel joke or if she would pull away before giving in and kissing her back hungrily.

Crystal made quick work of removing his shirt and then her own as he scooped her up and laid her down on the small cot in the corner. He tried to speak to her, to ask her if this is what she really wanted, but she silenced him with a rough kiss on the mouth, and he said no more.

The candles went out at the small breeze Crystal sent their way, and through the night she made herself forget Rowan and the war and what Snare had said to her about Summer's weapon. She made herself forget the slaughter that would ensue on the Fields as Thistle nipped at her neck and rocked against her, making her groan.

And as she raked her fingernails down his muscular back, appreciating the dragon tattoo adorning it, Crystal made herself forget that she even cared.


	20. The Charge & Demise

Crystal tried in vain to steady her hands as she adjusted Blackbird's saddle. She was always nervous before battle. Well, a soldier really never knew if they would return from war or not. Blackbird nickered and nudged her wrist with his soft, velvety nose. 

"What are we doing here, huh?" she murmured to him. He snuffed in response. She tightened his cinch and checked her saddlebags one more time for the extra weapons. She sighed and wiped her forehead. Her thoughts went back to yesterday - and the night before. 

Thistle was an excellent male in that certain category. However, the forgetting part had become rather difficult after they finally fell asleep and Rowan haunted her dreams. She'd woken up early in the morning covered in cold sweat and slightly disoriented. 

Thistle slept in while she had quietly rose and pulled her clothes on, wishing she could take a bath before her morning training. But, she wanted to get her mind off of the ice prince and training would certainly help. 

She'd trained throughout the day, much like the other soldiers who were preparing for the upcoming battle. She'd completed drills on Blackbird, trying - and failing - to watch as Rowan (who was also, might we add, shirtless) as he sparred with Edgebriar in a clearing a half mile back from their camp. 

Of course, he'd caught her looking and winked. She blushed, cursed his existence, and looked away, urging Blackbird into a hasty gallop. By the time the sun touched the horizon, Crystal was nearly spent, and Blackbird was famished, swallowing down five whole jackrabbits. 

"Crystal, dear!" her mother's voice brought her out of her thoughts so fast that she shook her head, disoriented. 

"What is it, Mother?" she asked, a bit snappy. She took in her mother slowly, still surprised by the fact that the Duchess wore fighting black armor with patterns like a raven's wings and a sword strapped to her hip. 

"The Queen has requested you to be on the front lines, with Winterbrey's troops. She has heard of your complimentary skills in battle and thought it would be wise to have a skilled and seasoned soldier in the front." Her mother smiled proudly, but there was pain in her eyes. Crystal knew her mother couldn't have protested, even if she wanted to. 

"What an honor," Crystal said flatly with a teardrop of sarcasm. She turned to mount up on Blackbird, grabbing a fistful of black mane to hoist herself into the saddle. Her black fighting leathers made it slightly more challenging. 

The Duchess placed a gloved hand on her daughter's elbow. "Do you have the locket?" she asked, her voice low. Worry dotted her elegant face and she pressed her lips together. "Be careful, sweetheart," she whispered when Crystal nodded. "The cheetahs and lions and other big cats are placed on the front lines of Summer, so judge their moves carefully," she told her.

Crystal nodded. "I will...." she said. She almost said 'I promise' but then held her tongue. No one knew what to expect of this battle and Crystal wasn't about to make any promises she couldn't keep. 

Her mother let her go and Crystal swung up into the saddle. "Be careful, my Lady," she told the Duchess. Her mother nodded and placed her right fist to her left shoulder in their family salute. 

"Always," was the last thing Crystal heard out of her mother's mouth before she urged Blackbird into a trot to join the other troops for war. 

********* 

Silence. 

That's the first thing you hear in the few moments before pure chaos. Silence. Crystal liked it, in a way. Her ears rung and her nose was filled with every scent and smell in the Fields, making her all the more alert. She swallowed and shortened Blackbird's reins. 

Winterbrey looked like a king of his own army as he sat upon his warhorse, his helmet obscuring only the sides of his handsomely scarred face. Crystal opted not to wear a helmet - they were too heavy and got in the way. 

A wind banked the hill across the Fields and Summer emerged, marching onto the field and trampling the tall grass underneath. Summer's ranks were surprisingly small. Sure enough, the front lines were composed of mostly big cats, rhinos, centaurs, and other animals. The soldiers dressed in gold and green armor were silent, unlike the Winter soldiers who were now braying like animals for Summer's demise. 

Crystal swallowed and waited for Winterbrey's signal to draw her weapon. Blackbird snorted and pranced about, anxious to charge. "Where are all their soldiers?" Crystal wondered aloud to the fey beside her, a female with a cruel scar decorating her face. 

"Don't know," she replied, only slightly annoyed. "Maybe Oberon kept the goodies for the last parts of the war to finish us off when we grow tired."

"Well, we will just have to make sure we don't grow tired, then," Crystal snarled, offended that a soldier would suggest such a thing. Winterbrey called a command and drew his sword. Crystal drew hers and let the massive battle cry that had overtaken Winter envelope her, filling her veins with everything that Winter was: cold, unforgiving, brutal death. 

Oberon, sitting atop a black stallion, gave his signal, and his ranks charged. Crystal dug her heels into Blackbird's sides and joined as Winter surged forward, picking up speed. She didn't know where the Winter Princes were, but out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Ash's horse hesitate, his nostrils flaring and his eyes going wide with fear. 

Blackbird, on the contrary, picked up speed and it felt as if Crystal were truly flying. They were so close to making contact. But, it did seem as if the lions, cheetahs, lynx, and centaurs were easing up a bit. Fools, Crystal thought. 

She smiled at the thought of the Summer soldiers being skewered one by one on her sword. On Winter's swords and knives and arrows. But then, her smile faded as Blackbird suddenly snorted and came to a halt so fast Crystal almost tumbled from the saddle. She grabbed onto his mane and frowned in anger and confusion as he whirled and fled in the other direction...

.....as many of the other cavalry were doing. Crystal tried in vain to rein him in and steer him around, but he grabbed the bit between his teeth and she lost complete control. She looked back in time to see one of the centaurs throw something towards Winter's ranks - toward Winterbrey's ranks, who were still charging. 

She had to look away to see where she was going, still attempting to gain control of her horse. It was only at that moment that she understood why the horses were acting the way they were. A scream lodged in her throat as a deafening boom shook the earth behind her. 

And then, the screams began.


	21. Blood & Smoke

That feeling of absolute dread is when your heart seems to leap into your throat and your head spins and you feel as if the world is going to swallow you whole. That is what Crystal felt as Blackbird squealed in terror and charged even faster. 

But, despite her utter terror, Crystal gave a final yank on his reins, urging him to stop. Thankfully, he did. She steered him around to see a huge gray cloud of smoke adorning the sky and spreading around the field. Screams filled the air as Summer took to simply slaughtering the Winter soldiers who'd fallen. 

Crystal watched in unabashed horror as a Summer knight hacked at an unfortunate Winter soldier. She swallowed and urged her horse toward the Summer knight, drawing a throwing knife. Blackbird obediently charged, now that the large danger was over, and ate up the ground in ten strides. 

The Summer soldier met his fate at the end of Crystal's knife as she slammed it into his skull. She didn't bother to retrieve it; she had others. She looked around the already fallen for her mother, Mab, the princes, Thistle, Rowan. 

She almost sobbed when she saw none of them lay dead or dying. A wolf tore into a cheetah's hide and the cat snarled, clawing at the wolf's face. Crystal saw Mab and Oberon locked in a deadly duel of ice and tree roots covered in deathly sharp thorns. She saw the princes locked in combat with Summer soldiers, each of them eerily calm whereas the Summer soldiers swiped and lunged with a rage that gave even Crystal chills. 

A yell of fury tore her from the sight and she looked over to see a centaur charging her way. Instead of charging him back, she drew her glamour to her and pushed up from the ground, watching in satisfaction as a vine made of ice and needles punched itself straight through the centaur's hide. 

A wave of nausea overcame her shortly after. A sudden blizzard whipped at her face and she closed her eyes, covering her face with her arm. When the blizzard subsided a few moments later, she spared herself the view of the centaur falling as she turned Blackbird away, choking on the smell of blood and the smoke that came from whatever caused the explosion. She urged her horse into the midst of the smoke, looking for any stray Summer soldiers. 

But what she found was far worse. Rowan stood battling three Summer knights and a battle hawk that kept swooping down to peck at him. He finally threw an ice dagger at it and it fell to the ground, its shrieks silenced. Crystal thought of leaving Rowan to it but she knew he was growing tired, having removed his helmet to reveal sweat dripping down his forehead. His lip was split and all the soldiers were breathing hard. 

He needed her help. 

She dismounted and drew her sword. The Summer knights weren't expecting her so they fumbled and tripped over dead bodies as she lunged and separated one knight's head from his shoulders. The second one took one look at her, made a rude gesture, and deserted his friend to go find an easier target. 

Crystal didn't let him get five steps. She froze him solid and watched as he slowly tipped to the grass and stayed there, an ice statue laying in a nest of his fallen comrades. Crystal found it a bit amusing, but then again, she was still in a bit of shock. 

She turned her attention back over toward where Rowan was in the chokehold of the Summer knight, who was a lot larger than Crystal first thought. Rowan had somehow lost his sword and was struggling in vain to get loose of the knight's arm around his neck. But the prince had used much of his glamour already and was exhausted from the battle. 

Crystal watched as his blue eyes flicked to hers and she lunged forward, expertly demolishing the Summer knight. All of this happened in a matter of seconds. The Summer knight fell to the ground, releasing Rowan who also stumped to his knees. 

Crystal, forgetting her anger at him, hurriedly knelt down beside him. She notice his wrist was bloody and there was a scratch on his cheek that was already starting to heal. "We're falling back," she said, panting, watching as Winter was indeed calling back its ranks. "Come on, we don't want to be taken prisoner." She tried to pull Rowan to his feet but he stumbled and leaned on her slightly.

"In...a minute....please," he panted. He wiped at his nose and his hand came away bloody. He didn't have the strength to pinch it closed to stop the bleeding. 

"Rowan, come on, we have to go," she urged. Summer was beginning to cheer and take prisoners, some of whom only had a certain amount of limbs. She watched as a Winter sidhe was dragged across the Field by two centaurs, his legs completely blown off below the knee. His cries were enough to make bile rise in Crystal's throat.

Rowan got to his feet and leaned on Crystal for support. He grunted and let her help him to Blackbird, who came at her whistle. He scrambled ungracefully onto the horse's back and Crystal swung up after. She didn't even have to command Blackbird to retreat. 

They tore across the field after the rest of the retreating soldiers, finally breaking through the trees and into their encampment. Rowan just about fell off Blackbird when they came to an abrupt halt. Crystal dismounted and reached to help the prince but he was already hobbling away, favoring his right foot. 

She wanted to go after him but it was just then that she realized her arm was bleeding. Badly. She swore and removed her leathers, wincing as the fabric brushed against her wound. She tore off a piece of her shirt sleeve and wrapped it hastily around her arm. She'd see to a healer later. 

Leaving Blackbird by his designated tree, she went in search of her mother. The Duchess, thankfully, was fine, Crystal discovered with relief, as she found her mother screaming at another general. They stood beside a motionless form on the ground, surrounded by a small group of soldiers. Some of them were gravely wounded. 

As Crystal stepped closer, she realized that the motionless form was Winterbrey. He was covered in blood and barely breathing. But still alive. 

"If you hadn't have left, he would not be in this state right now!" the Duchess yelled in the general's face. He remained stoic and unyielding. In fact, he looked quite bored. 

"My Lady, I assure you that I had to go help Prince Sage with the troll. It would have bitten his head clean off had I not been there," he told the Duchess. Apparently, this only proved to anger her mother further because she spat a new volley of curses at the general. 

Why was her mother so concerned about Winterbrey? Crystal thought suspiciously. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at her fuming mother, having an idea and ashamed that her mother would choose a simple general to fall for. 

Word came that there would be a meeting in the war tent that evening, to discuss the next steps in the battle with Summer. Crystal hid in her tent until then, tending to her wound. It was deeper than she initially thought and panic began to slightly press against her mind as she pressed a cloth against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. 

After wrapping it tightly and watching blood paint the fresh cloth red again, she felt for the locket at her neck. Maybe her mother was wrong, maybe this wouldn't protect her....

She found herself wishing in vain for someone, anyone, to be there with her as she lay on her cot and watched as blood dripped from her arm to the floor. A feeling of softness entered her mind, much like being drunk. The world swam and then, she entered oblivion.


	22. Lost Feelings

Through the wonderful daze that she was in, Crystal thought she heard rain. She slowly managed to open her eyes, her lids feeling heavy and crusted over with sleep. She swallowed, trying to bring moisture back into her excruciatingly dry mouth. 

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," someone purred from close by. Her eyes swiveled to land on two beautiful blue ones. She stared for a bit, enraptured by the vividness of the blue. 

She tried to ask how long she'd been out for, which ended up sounding a lot like "ho lung half I bit up fall". She winced inwardly when she spoke; her throat was raw as if she'd been screaming for hours. 

"Whoa, there, Princess, don't try to talk yet. The healing powder the healer gave you dried out your throat, so it will be a while before you can comfortably speak again," the prince with blue eyes told her. 

Crystal swallowed heavily again. "What....What happened?" she slurred, her eyes watering at how much it hurt to speak. 

"Well," Rowan continued. "Your mother was worried almost to illness when you didn't show up at the meeting in the war tent, so she sent two guards out to find you. They found you here, reported you were out cold and bleeding like a mauled animal, a healer tended to you quickly, and here I am!" He grinned, taking her hand gently in his. 

"Bastard," she whispered, closing her eyes again. She was so tired, she couldn't even think straight. She thought she heard Rowan mutter about how she'd been out already for about two days so how could she sleep again, but she was already with her old friend, Oblivion. 

**********

"Summer has created a new weapon, one inspired by the weapons used in the war currently going on in the mortal realm," Winterbrey was saying. He stood at the head of the table that was covered in maps and strategies in the war tent. A bandage wrapped around his forehead, beginning to soak through with blood. 

Crystal leaned against one of the posts in the corner, her arms crossed and her head a bit dizzy. She'd ultimately spent about two and a half days in her tent, bleeding and recovering and sleeping. Rowan had, frustratingly on her part, stayed by her side, so much that talk was beginning to spread through the camp like wildfire that the prince harbored feelings for Crystal. 

Crystal was determined to exterminate those rumors. She'd given Rowan several rotten glares and no words of appreciation since she woke up earlier that morning. Although she had to admit seeing him sleeping in the chair beside her bed was rather cute. 

"What do we currently know about this weapon?" Edgebriar asked of Winterbrey, who was rubbing his wounded head slightly. "We know that it explodes with fire and smoke and that it decimates many numbers of fey at a time." 

"Precisely," Winterbrey continued, "and that it can be birthed by lighting flame to a wick. "But how big is the actual weapon that explodes when triggered? We don't have that information, yet." 

"Perhaps we could go to the mortal realm and learn from the humans who've invented the weapon?" another Thornguard suggested, then quickly added at the stares of absolute horror, "I mean, maybe one or two of us could bring humans from the war here and interrogate them?" 

Winterbrey rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Thistlebree," Rowan snapped, throwing an annoyed glance toward the young guard's way. 

"That suggestion, while interrogation humans in the most brutal ways sounds tempting, it is much too dangerous to venture into a place where we could be killed just as easily," the Duchess piped in, standing near Crystal. 

The Duchess was still dressed in fighting leathers, a sword strapped to her belt. Winterbrey's eyes roved quickly along her figure, stopping to study her face. Crystal did not miss the movement. 

"We could send spies," she said before Winterbrey could open his mouth to speak. "Just to Summer's side, to find how their weapon works?" She earned a few looks of consideration from the guards, generals, and even Ash who were gathered in the tent. 

"That would be the most logical option, or else we leave our strategies up to chance," Ash spoke. Why was he agreeing with her? 

"Very well, then," the Queen spoke for the first time since her introductions at the beginning of the meeting. "Crystal and Rowan will go."

"Wait, what?" Crystal heard herself protest. Rather loudly. 

All heads turned her way. 

She swallowed as heat rose up her neck. "I mean, why two of your best fighters?" she asked Mab. "Why not Thistlebree?" she gestured at the weak little guard who glared at her in response. 

Mab smiled. "Because Thistlebree would not last a moment on Summer's side of the battlefield, dear Crystal. He's much too...new, inexperienced." She threw a look of mild distain in the guard's direction. 

"Then it is decided," Winterbrey spoke up. "The Prince and Lady Crystal will go to Summer as spies to find out what this new weapon exactly is and how it works." 

Crystal sighed. Why Rowan? Why not Ash or Thistle, who was, at the moment giving her a strange look, as if she'd betrayed him somehow. She raised one eyebrow at him and shrugged, showing that she wanted this even less than him. 

He only glared at her and swept out of the tent with the others on an angry heel. 

Crystal sighed and exited the tent, wincing as her arm burned with her still-healing wound. The healer had placed some healing powder on it this morning but it only held off the pain for a few hours. 

"Looks like you and I will be travel buddies tomorrow," Rowan smirked at her as he passed, a few of his guards following close behind. Except for Thistlebree who leaned closer and hissed in her ear. 

"Bitch," was the one word that ended him up in the healer's tent the rest of the day.


	23. Spies

Crystal and Rowan were to be disguised as two Summer soldiers, simple enough to be overlooked and not memorable enough to be recognized if there were two sets of them. Crystal groaned as she, Rowan, Winterbrey, and several Thornguards accompanied them into the forest so that the transformation may not be witnessed by anyone else for security reasons. 

"This better be worth my time," Crystal grumbled as they stopped nearby a stream. Her arm had improved in its healing quite admirably but it still hurt a bit. 

"Don't worry, Princess," Rowan said, causing Crystal to bristle a bit. "You'll be with me." He winked. 

Crystal fought not to flip him the bird. Winterbrey stepped in and began to explain their mission. "You two shall not use any glamour, is that understood?" He waited for them to both nod before continuing. "If you do, this disguise will be wiped away and you two will not see the light of day again."

"How long do you expect us to stay in Summer's camp, General?" Rowan asked, serious for the first time in two days. 

"As long as it takes you to find out what that secret weapon actually is and how it works," the general replied, taking note of how bored Crystal looked and holding back a snicker. "Now, if you have nothing else to say, we shall commence with the change."

Crystal sighed and held back a 'finally' grumble as Winterbrey began to glamour them into Summer fey. Crystal winced as her skin stretched a bit tighter and her hair became shorter and brown. Her skin became tan and her clothes transformed to dark green fighting leathers. She also became about an inch shorter. 

She studied her hands and marveled at Winterbrey's work. It was incredible, really. Rowan, however, was a mite taller, if only by an inch, and sported matching fighting leathers and long golden hair. His eyes turned a deep brown and a scar appeared across his nose. He was no less handsome, of course. Although, she was sure she preferred him with ebony hair instead of gold. 

Rowan smirked at her as he took in their new selves. "You look cute in green, Crys," he said, his eyes glinting. Crystal rolled her eyes and looked to Winterbrey, who was trying his best not to turn a lip up in disgust at the fact that there were two "Summer fey" now on Winter's side. 

"You'll be needing these," he said, handing them both a small flask. "I filled them with Rockbait poison. In case the situation presents itself, pour this into one of Summer's ale cups - preferably Oberon's."

The full brunt of what they were doing hit Crystal as Winterbrey led them through the camp and out toward the perimeter. "Oh, and uh," he said before Crystal and Rowan headed off. "The two fey you're disguised as? They're, er, rather quite close," he smirked wickedly this time as he turned and left them, the Thornguards trailing behind him and laughing as well. 

Crystal silently cursed them for eternity under her breath. 

*************

They would be entering the Summer camp from the side of the east forest. Many Summer soldiers went hunting there and the two fey Rowan and Crystal were disguised as were known to sneak off into those very woods. 

To do what was really beyond all of Crystal's comprehension. 

"You think they'll welcome us with some poppy stew?" Rowan asked, nudging her with his elbow. They were closer to the camp now and Crystal found her stomach was not happy with her at the moment. "It was rather good the last time they served it at Elysium."

"I don't really want to think about food right now," Crystal said through her teeth. She swallowed down her nerves and focused on the task at hand. She also didn't like Rowan's arrogant grin.

"Oh, Crystal, you aren't...nervous, are you?" Rowan's grin grew wider and she was about ready to slap him when she spotted a Summer guard, pacing back and forth near the east entrance. Her heart leapt to her throat and she almost jumped when Rowan slid his hand in hers. 

"Flora and Lukas are supposed to be lovers anyway, sweetheart. Don't look so terrified - you look like you've seen a ghost," Rowan continued. He walked by the guard with ease, nodding to him as they passed, Crystal - Flora - in tow. 

The guard nodded back and resumed his pacing. "How can you be so calm?" Crystal whispered, her heart thumping madly in her chest. Although, it did allow some annoyance to creep in next to her nervousness to know that her name was now Flora. Hideous name, honestly.

"Practice, sweetheart," Rowan purred, running his thumb along hers. She had to fight the urge to yank her hand away as her heart pounded - and not in fear this time. "I've done this more times than you think."

Crystal really didn't have the energy at the moment to ask, plus if someone overheard them talking about that certain subject, they would be in a shitload of trouble. Several soldiers either nodded or greeted them with a 'aye, afternoon!' as they passed, but none stopped them in their path. 

"We should find Flora and Lukas's tent," Rowan whispered to Crystal. 

"What will we do if we find them there?" Crystal asked, still nervous about standing directly in the center of the Summer camp surrounded by Summer soldiers and war cats and...trolls. God, she hated trolls. 

Rowan smiled and winked. "We improvise."

**********

Turns out, Flora and Lukas were not in their tent. Instead, an even more sticky situation presented itself. Apparently, as it goes, the two were sent to another, neighboring Summer camp about a days ride away to collect more food supplies. Well, long story short, the crotchety general who'd been interrogating Rowan and Crystal about "where the damn food supplies were you shit love birds?" 

"We just...they wouldn't give any up, sir!" Rowan said, pleading with his eyes for the general to understand. 

"We have been running out for the past two days, you idiot! We need that food, and you two really can't stop trying to swallow each other long enough to get food?!" the general snapped. "I expected better of you, Lukas Greenlark."

Lukas - Rowan - swallowed and blinked. "I apologize sincerely, sir, but they sent us back with a message: If the General wants his dragonfruit and ale, he can damn well come get it himself," Rowan recited. 

The general snarled and shook his head. "Damn peasant soldiers," he grumbled. "Go back to your tent and stay there till morning. We add some improvements to the Weapon at dawn. Need to clean out those Winter shits nearly completely if we want to get anywhere near the Princes." With that, the general pushed past Rowan and Crystal, still grumbling to himself. 

Rowan's face suddenly held a trace of shock and fear for a moment before he wiped it clean, masking his face into one of calm arrogance. "Let's head to the tent, shall we, sweet Flora," he smirked. 

Crystal was still trying to process all this. She'd kept quiet during the exchange, having learned from Winterbrey before they left that Flora was rather quiet and shy - except in the bedroom, apparently. This fact almost made Crystal puke up her breakfast. 

"Stop calling me that, Lukas," she snarled. 

"Well, it is your name, unfortunately," Rowan replied. "For now, at least. Better get used to it. It's not that bad, really." He slipped his hand into hers once more as they headed to the tent. "And tomorrow, I'll go with that general to see the 'improvements' on the Weapon," he lowered his voice. "Looks like Fate is on our side."

"I'll try to find out more of their battle strategies for the next battle," Crystal whispered back. She hoped she could find out something useful. She hoped to get out of here as soon as possible. And she hoped to everything divine that they didn't get caught.


	24. The Warning

A small, lone firefly drifted in from outside the tent. Its abdomen lit up with a golden glow as it flew over towards where Crystal sat on the cot near the corner, polishing her knife. The firefly seemed to sense that Crystal was, indeed, not who she appeared to be and flew off into the shadows.

Crystal sighed and eyed the entrance as movement stirred the flaps. A figure ducked in and for a moment she tensed until she realized it was only Rowan. Their disguises had held out, thankfully, but it was still annoying that neither of them were able to use Winter glamour, else risk losing their disguises.

"I got us some supper," Rowan announced, holding up a small bowl of berries. "Cook wouldn't let me have any else, say we need to be punished for not getting the food supplies from the other camp."

Crystal watched him in silence as he made himself comfortable across from her, setting the bowl of berries in between them. He moved with grace, as all fey did, but also with danger and mystery, much like a jungle cat or bird of prey. Crystal liked that about him. It was a lot like herself, how he held himself and moved.

She shook herself and snatched up a strawberry from the bowl. She hated her feelings and how thin the wall up around her heart had become. She didn't want to get destroyed again, as losing her father had done to her. She figured if she stopped caring for anyone and anything, it wouldn't hurt as much.

Unfortunately, her heart had other ideas.

Especially with how Rowan was eyeing her, a devious smirk pulling at his lips.

Crystal tried at her best glare. "What?" she sniped, trying to sound annoyed. His eyes roamed her face, then briefly the rest of her, pausing slightly on her chest.

"You're just very distracting in that outfit," he replied, shrugging and resting his chin on his hand, popping a blueberry into his mouth.

Crystal clenched her teeth and felt her glare turn all the more murderous as she remembered what Flora had worn that day. The collar of her rugged brown shirt dipped quite low in the front, barely covered by crisscrossing ties. Her tight pants didn't help much either. "You don't have to look at me, you know," she muttered.

Rowan's face turned serious. "But, I want to," he murmured, his eyes drifting to hers and staying there.

It was strange seeing Rowan in this state, vulnerable and true. He hid none of his feelings as he spoke to her through his eyes. After an intense moment, he said, "Crystal, I don't wish to hurt you."

Frustration roared up in Crystal as a response. "Then stop playing that little game of yours! The one where you seduce an innocent girl and then break her heart and soul when she declares her undying love for you," Crystal could hear her voice rising and immediately lowered it. They couldn't be caught talking about this.

Rowan didn't blink. "I'm not playing that game, Crystal," he said, his voice low. "Besides, you're not innocent and I'm not stupid," he swallowed a strawberry. "I know that if I tried any games with you, you'd rip me apart bit by bit until nothing was left."

Crystal considered this. He wasn't wrong by any means. "So you're little act of pursuing me is serious?" She didn't know what she'd do if he said yes.

Rowan pushed the bowl of fruit away. "Crystal, you've been destroying me bit by bit ever since you started acting like you hate me," he said, his voice husky. Crystal shivered. "I don't want anyone else. And no, not even Narissa," he added when she opened her mouth to shoot the very retort at him.

"Destroying you?" she asked doubtfully. "Am I destroying you even now?" she leaned back and smirked at him. Perhaps, it was her turn to be cruel. Something entered Rowan's eyes that made goosebumps crawl up her arms.

Instead of speaking, he slowly crawled forward until he was trapping her between his arms and his face was inches from hers. His eyes met hers and in his she saw an emotion she couldn't place. She felt as if he were staring into her heart and whatever small part of a soul she had left. Then, he said the one word that tore her apart.

"Yes," he whispered, and kissed her. His smooth lips slid over hers and Crystal felt herself tensing up, pulling away and drawing into herself, away from him and the soldiers and the world. Just like she always did.

"Don't, Crystal," Rowan whispered, drawing back only enough to speak. "Don't go." He kissed her again, gently this time, and Crystal melted a little. She brought her hands up to the sides of his face and returned his kiss, taking his lower lip between her teeth. Rowan groaned and deepened the kiss, leaning back and pulling her into his lap.

Crystal straddled him and slipped her hands into his golden hair, keeping back a groan as their tongues danced and Rowan's hands began their exploration over her back and rear. She hated seeming vulnerable, and making noises of pleasure showed exactly that. So Crystal almost swore when he slipped his cold hands under her shirt, moving his thumbs in small circles over her abdomen.

"Crystal, fighting won't help," Rowan murmured in her ear, breathing hard. "It'll only create more walls." He nipped at her earlobe and this time she let a naughty word slip out.

Rowan smirked and slowly lowered them both down onto the cot, trailing a path of kisses down her neck and over her collarbone. She tangled her hands in his hair as his tongue trailed across her skin, creating fire in her that slowly licked up to her face.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," Rowan whispered as he pulled back to look in her eyes. Crystal was breathing hard and her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his chin.

"I know," she whispered. And then, she pounced. Rowan responded just how she'd predicted he would, groaning and swearing as she kissed his jaw, and mouth, and neck. She slid his shirt from his shoulders and ran her hands down his sculpted chest, knowing his true form, not the disguise, was much stronger. Much more beautiful.

"Shit, Crystal," he gasped as she pressed a kiss to his shoulder, right on a scar that may have been his, considering its pigment. Rowan was just beginning to line his body with hers when movement registered with Crystal out of the corner of her eye.

She snapped her head to the side, her heart now pounding with alarm. Danger, her mind whispered. "Rowan, wait!" she hissed, cursing her lady parts for reeling as he kissed her throat. But, he obeyed and paused at her words.

"What is it?" he whispered but was silent as she placed her fingers over his mouth. She gently pushed him off of her and straightened, palming her knife. She crept toward the entrance to the tent, holding her breath and listening. She could hear a gurgling sort of breathing. Or wheezing, rather. Then, silence.

She slowly reached for the flap and pulled it aside. She held back a scream and the bile that raced to her throat as she beheld the Summer general from earlier, his throat utterly destroyed, not just slit and a tattoo of a black rose exposed on his pale chest.


	25. The Weapon

The sun shone through the tent flaps, a line of golden light slicing the ground. Crystal squinted and blinked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She let out a yawn and sat up, although the fey behind her made a small noise and tightened his hold around her waist, pulling her closer and nestling his nose against her back.

Crystal smirked and gently stroked his head. After she'd witnessed the death of the Summer general, Rowan had pulled her back in the tent, securing the flaps and blowing out the meager candles on the nightstand. He then had pulled her to the cot, and they'd lain there, just holding each other, whispering about the strange tattoo on the general's chest.

Normally, Crystal didn't like the sun. It was too bright and too hot for someone used to living in sub zero temperatures. But, this morning, she found she liked the way it shone through the tent flap and made the space around them dim. It was...peaceful.

She laid back down on the mattress and studied the tattoo "Lukas" sported along his shoulder and bicep. It was many intricate designs shuffled together to create something mysterious and beautiful. She lightly ran the tips of her fingers over it and earned a small noise from Rowan in the process.

He nuzzled his head against her neck and she shivered as she felt him slowly begin to kiss her, his cold breath raising goose bumps along her arms. He continued this for another moment before slowly inching his way toward her mouth. She sighed as their lips met and opened up a little, letting his tongue slip inside to duel with hers.

Maybe it was the ambiance in the room, the sunshine, or the fact that they hadn't been caught yet as spies, but Crystal felt strangely happy. Her heart thundered in her chest as Rowan rolled to line his body with hers. Thankfully, he'd slept with his pants on. Otherwise, they could be here a while.

Crystal let him kiss her a few moments more, letting out a small gasp as he gently rocked his hips against hers. She also thanked all that was holy that his disguise was not as beautiful as his true form. Otherwise, they could have been here for a long while.

"Rowan, I think we should..." she trailed off, stopping her thoughts that they should, perhaps, get up and get ready to go investigate the Weapon, but the trail of kisses he created down her throat simply took her breath away. He was also continuously, but gently, rocking his hips against hers, which was so annoying.

"Rowan, we should get up," she gasped, her instinct of pulling away and withdrawing into herself starting to kick in as she felt him grin against her neck.

"Why? The sun's only just risen. We're probably the only ones awake. We have all the time in the world, dove," he murmured and kissed her jaw. Crystal swore under her breath and pushed against his broad shoulders.

A plan hit her. It was still early, and they were probably one of the only ones awake....

"Rowan, we can go investigate the Weapon without being questioned - or our chances of being questioned are very low," she whispered. She almost laughed at his expression. She knew that he knew she was right and he was extremely disappointed about it.

She smiled and ran a finger down his sculpted jaw. "We can have fun later." He smiled, his eyes promising everything but innocent "fun" later. She pushed at his shoulders again and this time he let her. She rose and pulled her boots on. "I'll go out first, see if I can see where they're hiding it."

"All right, I'll be right behind you," Rowan mumbled, letting out a big yawn and flopping back down onto the cot and rolling over, closing his eyes.

Crystal smirked and shook her head. "Lazy ass," she muttered before heading out of the tent.

***********

It took her a while to actually locate the Weapon. Turns out, it was hidden a few yards back in the forest, cloaked under a ratty looking cloth. And it wasn't what she expected. Instead of a large machine like she thought, she found herself looking at small black...spheres.

They looked to be made of some sort of plant substance, and they were rather light. She would have to dissect it in order to find out what the ingredients were inside. She had only passed two Summer soldiers this morning on her way to find the Weapon, and they'd payed her no mind. She glanced around to make sure no one was looking. She couldn't waste time.

Settling down at the base of a large tree, she took her knife and began to peel away the outer layer of the small sphere. It came away rather easily, although this whole time she was breathing hard, hoping no one could hear the pounding of her heart. Sweat gathered at her temples as she finished scraping away the black outer skin. The next layer looked a sort of dirty cream color, sort of like the inside of a potato, and it was tougher.

After managing to scrape away a few pieces, a crack appeared in the shell. She almost dropped the thing startlingly. She hesitated, not wanting to drop or put too much pressure on the sphere, for she was beginning to have an idea of how the thing worked. Carefully, she positioned her hands and was able to break apart the sphere. A hot, thick red and orange substance trickled out and this time she did drop the sphere, gasping at how the substance burned her hand.

She winced as her skin sizzled, and cursed that she wasn't able to use her Winter glamour to cool her skin down without losing the disguise. Biting her lip, she took her knife and poked the rest of the shell of the sphere open, letting the substance trickle out. Inside was the only kind of plant that, with some added ingredients, could cause explosions.

The fire poppy. It was a legendary flower that grew in the brutal deserts of the Summer Realm, and few ever dared to venture there, even Summer fey. It was a rare flower, and its magical seeds held a type of power that most mortals would call 'gunpowder'.

The realization hit Crystal at what these spheres were. In order for the fire poppy to take effect, great pressure had to be enacted upon it - or, in short, the sphere in which the poppy was encased would have to be thrown. The Summer fey had found a way to create the Exploders the mortals used in their wars.

This was not good.

It grew even worse at the twig that snapped behind her. "Hey, what are you doing?" a male voice snapped behind her.

Crystal spun around, trying not to act too surprised, as she schooled her face into one of confidence. "Uh, nothing, just...inspecting the supplies to make sure we have enough," she said to the roguishly handsome Summer knight. He sported a wicked scar across his face and his eyes spoke of too many wars they'd seen.

He narrowed his eyes. "By taking one apart?" He began to stalk towards her and she swallowed, doing what Flora would probably do - step back.

"Well...it didn't look right, so...I-" Her heart sped up as a wicked grin pulled at his lips. She would not panic.

"Didn't look right? All the spheres look exactly the same, little flower," he said lowly, continuing to stalk toward her. It was only when her back hit the tree that Crystal began to panic a little. She'd only brought one knife, and she couldn't use her glamour. And, of course, she'd dropped her knife at the sound of the twig snapping. It was now nearly seven feet away.

"Come now, Flora. What's got you bothered?" the soldier with the scar asked, prowling closer. She couldn't answer as she gazed at him fearfully, as Flora would (hopefully). The Summer knight stopped when there was only about a millimeter of space between the two. He reached up and ran a dirty finger down her cheek. "Don't you remember two nights ago, in the glen?"

Crystal opened her mouth to say something but the knight brought his mouth down over hers, kissing her savagely and biting down on her lower lip. She tried to push him away, but he pinned her to the tree with his body. Panic shot through her and she tried to take deep breaths but to him it probably sounded like pleasurable ones.

"Lukas doesn't have to know," the knight whispered, bringing both her legs up to wrap around his waist and kissing her again, shoving his disgusting tongue down her throat. She hated him. She wanted to kill him - no, make him suffer first. She whimpered as frustration at not being able to use her glamour, at being trapped, threatened to smother her.

The knight misinterpreted this and smirked as he grinded against her, and she could feel how much she apparently aroused him. What the hell was Flora involved in?! Crystal thought. She tore her lips away and something snapped inside her when he frowned and grabbed her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him. "You're mine, bitch," he snarled.

Screw not being able to use glamour. Screw her disguise. Let him see who - what - she truly was. "Fuck off, Summer pig," she snarled before letting frost crawl over the ground, trees, and the Weapon as her disguise melted away and the Summer knight found himself staring into the eyes of a very pissed Crystal.


	26. The Summer Queen

The first look that appeared on the Summer knight's face, put a magnificent smile on Crystal's. First, it was shock, which quickly delved into anger and then disgust. He reeled back, releasing Crystal who, as soon as her feet hit the ground attacked. 

She pivoted to grab her knife while she launched an ice dagger at his face as he drew his sword. He dodged the ice shards and lunged at her, a fireball materializing in his fist. Crystal acted on instinct, flicking her wrist and using her glamour to freeze his feet in place. 

The Summer Knight was hit with the knife in the gut, but instead of keeling over and dying like Crystal hoped, he growled and yanked the weapon out of his abdomen. With murder in his deep brown eyes, he stalked toward Crystal, this time calling white fire to him and inching it toward her, making her dance back to avoid the flames. 

He herded her one way, then another. He laughed as sweat beaded on her forehead and she concentrated on not being burned alive. Oh, how she loathed Summer fey. Anger so fierce it almost made her see red licked up her body, pulling adrenaline and newfound determination with it. She would not be toyed with by some menopausal Summer whelp. 

She formed an ice dagger in her palm and lunged, ignoring the flames as they licked her boots. Her glamour quickly snuffed them out. She barreled into the unexpecting knight, bringing up against the tree and pinning him there, her dagger to his throat. Unfortunately, it began to melt due to the temperature of his skin and his surrounding glamour. 

"You dirty bitch. And to think I had my mouth on a Winter wh-" he began, snarling, but Crystal politely interrupted him. 

"I'm deeply honored," she smiled coldly before moving to slice his throat. 

She never got the chance. At that moment, two pairs of hands grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back, one knocking her blade from her hand. She fought like a wild cat, her glamour going wild. But apparently, the two Summer soldiers holding her were stronger because after thick layers of frost covered the surroundings, fire quickly followed it. 

It was no use wasting her energy; she was trapped. Ceasing her struggling for a short while, she blew a stray strand of hair away from her face. "Bastard," she muttered. 

"I could say the same for you, Winter whore!" the soldier holding her on the left snapped, slugging her in the ear. She gasped at the pain and shut up. 

"Take her to Titania - she'll deal with her properly," the knight she'd been previously fighting said, wiping a trail of blood from his lip. When had she hit him? Crystal thought. 

The two soldiers began to tug her away before she realized what was really happening. She only hoped Rowan hadn't got caught by now. In the best situation, she'd be held as a prisoner of Summer. The worst, well...

She swallowed and tried to act cooperative as the soldiers dragged her to Queen Titania's tent. When they arrived, Crystal was promptly shackled, slugged once more in the ear, then thrown at the Queen's slippered feet. 

Crystal righted herself in a kneeling position and glared up at the Queen of Summer. Her auburn hair glistened in the morning light and her eyes, somehow, were scarier than her mother's. Which was near impossible. "Well, whatever is this?" she spoke, her voice like a lilting fountain. 

"We found this whelp having a little skirmish with Jax, here," one of the soldiers replied. "Gave him a bloody lip, she did." Jax stepped forward and nodded to the Queen, his lip still bleeding. 

I would've given him a lot worse if you dumbheads had not interrupted us, Crystal thought. The Queen was silent for a few moments before regarding Jax with a glint in her eye, a devious smile pulling at her lips. Was she and he...? Crystal almost visibly gagged. 

"Well, dear Winter girl, I'm sure you know that you are quite far from your side of the battlefield, no?" Titania asked, tapping her fingers against her chair. 

Crystal did not respond. 

"Are you alone? Or did you drag along one of your icy counterparts along?"

"Not here, I didn't. I wouldn't endanger my own kind," Crystal gritted out through her teeth. Her heart was pounding. She wanted Titania to just name her punishment and get on with it, none of this stalling nonsense.

Titania considered this for a moment. "What were you doing on Summer's side? I'm sure it wasn't just to chat, now, is it?" A smile that made chills crawl up Crystal's spine was tugging at Titania's lips. 

Crystal did not respond to this. Only glared at the Queen, wishing she could use her glamour-

As a matter of fact...Crystal reached out, trying to feel her glamour, to call it to her. No. 

"Ah, yes, dear Winter girl," Titania drawled. "You won't be creating an ice rink here, dear. Now, let us discuss the consequences of your presence here and furthermore attacking one of my soldiers."

Crystal was about to say that he provoked her but then shut her mouth. What good would it do? She wasn't getting off the hook free. Not by Titania's card. "Now, I suppose a simple branding wouldn't be too harsh, no?" she said, looking to her attendants, who were standing a ways back and staring at Crystal fearfully. 

Crystal curled her lip at them all. 

"Or, perhaps, public humiliation?" Her eyes glinted at that. "What say you, General?"

One of the soldiers shifted. Nervously. "Whatever you deem as best, my Queen," he replied, his voice shaking a little. 

Despite her attempt to be brave, Crystal's heart began to pound a little. She swallowed and did not drop her gaze from Titania's as the Queen said, "ah, yes. I think that would suffice just fine." This time she did smile, and it haunted Crystal to the bones.


	27. Lashes, Lashes, We All Fall Down

Crystal swallowed and struggled to keep her anger under control as she was led out of her prison tent by two roguish guards who kept pinching her arms too tight. It was near dusk and a large group of fey had gathered to witness her "public humiliation". 

She couldn't imagine what Titania had planned for her. Probably turning her into a deer or something stupid like that. Despite everything, Crystal's hands trembled a bit. Somehow, she knew that this circus Titania had planned would be much, much worse than being turned into a deer. 

The fey snarled and jeered at her as she was pushed through the crowd gathered. One goblin poked a stick hard at her calf and she snarled, kicking it in the face. The guards only shoved her forward, growling a "keep going, girl" at her. 

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the tall, sturdy pole in the middle of the circle the fey had created. Her mouth went dry and she suddenly knew exactly what Titania had in store for her. Speaking of said Queen, Titania elegantly stood across the circle, looking down upon her like she was a dead bug underneath the Queen's slippers. 

Titania held up a hand and the crowd quieted immediately. "Tonight, we are gathered to witness a very honorable event!" The crowd jeered and snarled while Crystal rolled her eyes. Hypocrites, she thought. Every Summer fey here was just as bloodthirsty as they accused Winter fey of being. 

"You are all probably aware of our guest, the lovely Winter girl from across the field," Titania said, speaking as if Crystal barely existed. "Most likely stopped by to pay her respects." She smiled and Crystal swore she heard thunder rumble. "Now, it is time we return the gesture."

Crystal swallowed as the guards, taking that as their cue, pushed her forward towards the pole. Where was Rowan? she thought. She didn't want him getting caught up in this mess, and she knew he wasn't stupid enough to try and engage Titania alone but...

She only hoped he'd escaped back to Winter's side of the field. She could take care of herself. She hoped. 

Tying her wrists tightly to the pole, the guards then, to the crowd's delight, took hold of her thin shirt, and ripped the back open, pushing it aside to reveal her lean back, already decorated with a few scars. 

Growls emanated from the crowd and Crystal clenched her teeth as the air hit her exposed skin. "She is to receive fifteen lashes, since I am feeling particularly generous. I am also not as much of a downright savage like Mab."

Crystal curled her lip in disgust and glared at the Queen. How dare she insult the Winter monarch like that? Titania didn't even flinch at Crystal's icy glare. "Don't make it thirty, dear girl," the Queen said, her face as serious as a summer lightning storm. 

Crystal felt her heart speed up as the largest guard picked up a lasher, the tail filled with tiny pinpricks of the Needle flower. Her back would be stinging like hell for weeks. She braced herself and wished they'd just get it over with. 

"Wait!" a new voice overrode the cacophony of shouts and snarls. 

Crystal swore and looked over her shoulder-

-and almost vomitted. Lukas stood there, his golden hair shimmering in the firelight of torches a few fey held. "Let me do it. Since apparently my identity was stolen, I think this bitch should receive a well given thanks from me," he spat the secret word like it tasted foul in his mouth. 

Crystal let out a breath of relief. It wasn't Rowan. His accent was all wrong. Lukas's accent and tone were rougher, more like the accents of fey from the deserts in the south. His face was also all wrong. Like a monster had crawled in and replaced the once probably decent faery. Or perhaps he'd always been like this. 

Crystal said nothing as Lukas - the real Lukas - took up the lasher and didn't hesitate, bringing it down upon her back like it was the best thing he ever did. It probably was, to him. Fire laced up her skin and she clenched her jaw, squeezing her eyes shut. Only fourteen more to go, she thought. 

Lukas growled and struck again, harder this time. Still, she kept quiet. She'd endured worse. Lukas seemed to be wanting to get a scream or cry or any sort of sound of pain out of her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. It felt like years went by as Lukas dealt out lash after lash upon her back, earning cheers from the crowd and a look of satisfaction from Titania. 

Crystal made it a point in her mind to kill Lukas the next time they met on the battlefield. She could feel blood dripping down her back and she knew she looked terrible. She hadn't noticed before now that tears were streaming down her face, most likely from the pain. 

Finally, Lukas dealt out the last lash, and Crystal let out a long breath, the lump in her throat threatening to explode. She'd forgotten how painful getting lashed was. It felt as if her whole back were on fire and she desperately wanted, at that moment, to jump in the coldest lake in the world. 

She only registered the guards untying her wrists and the crowd somewhat dispersing as the show wrapped up. "You got what you deserved, bitch," one guard snarled in her ear, his wet lips brushing her ear. He grinned and slapped her shoulder, hard.

Right where an open, bloody lash sat. 

Now, she did cry out and act on instinct. She remembered turning and shoving her fist into the guard's nose, the guard then backslapping her, causing her (only in her wounded state) to fall to the ground. Black was beginning to tint her vision and she desperately let oblivion take her. 

Just before she went under, her heart lifted with relief as she saw a figure with black spiky hair and divine blue eyes racing back toward's Winter's side, the body of the soldier who'd assaulted her in the woods thrown across his saddle.


	28. The Return

Crystal did not remember much of how she ended up thrown across the back of a horse like a sack of wheat, nor why her face ached and felt as if she'd stuck it in candle wax. The slow plodding of the horse beneath her did nothing to ease her pain as she observed sharp green grass still stained with Fey blood as it passed slowly.

As she slowly came to, she managed to twist her head a bit to see her captor, a brawny and grumpy looking Summer soldier whose face had seen way too many wars. Not having the strength to speak, she let her head drop back to its previous position, feeling the blood rush to her head. 

After a while, the soldier reined in his horse, bringing it to a halt. He dismounted and pulled her off, literally dumping her on the ground as if she were merely a sack of rubbish. He then swung back on his horse. "I suggest oakweed for those bruises," he grumbled before steering his horse away and galloping back across the field. 

That's when she realized. He'd dumped her on the doorstep of Winter's encampment. Groaning, she slowly pushed herself to her elbows, trying to focus on breathing. Everything hurt, now that she thought about it. 

She gave herself a small pep talk, and somehow managed to struggle to her feet, stumbling forward on wobbly legs. Gripping the trees for support with one hand, she made her way toward the camp, where she was greeted by several guards and her frantic mother. 

A flurry of questions were flown her way by the guards, but her mother fiercely shushed them and took her daughter's arm, slinging it over her shoulder. Shooing the guards away, the Duchess led Crystal toward her tent, letting Crystal set the pace, which was a slow shuffle across the camp. 

"I...am sorry I'm such a...bur-" Crystal started to say quietly to her mother, trying to concentrate on walking straight. She was glad of her mother's support - and for someone to lean on. 

"Hush, now, dear," her mother chided. "You are not a burden." They reached the tent and the Duchess pushed aside one flap, maneuvering them both inside. Crystal's stomach suddenly clenched at the movement and she felt like puking. What had they done to her? 

After laying Crystal down on the bed and adding an extra pillow under her head, the Duchess bustled about, probably fixing some sort of tea, like she always had done when Crystal was in a state of worry or concern, which she most definitely was. 

"How bad is it?" Crystal mumbled. It was just now that she realized her shirt was pasted to her back, which hurt like a bitch. It was probably infected. 

Her mother hesitated a moment in her bustling and then spoke. "You have a black eye, and a split lip and another cut on your cheek, and I've not had a good look at your back yet - I'll fetch a healer to do that." She seemed to remember that there were healers in the camp at that moment because, without saying another word, she darted out of the tent in search of one. 

Crystal took that moment to push herself to her elbows with great effort. There was a floor-length mirror across the tent and she almost gasped at her appearance. She looked awful, in other words. 

Her hair was a mess, full of tangles and knots, and dirt for that matter. Her eyelids were swollen and a purple bruise circled one. A dark cut on her left cheek stung and looked red around the edges. Infection had probably started to set in. Her lips were chapped and her stomach didn't feel all that well either. 

She groaned and flopped back down on the mattress, which was a terrible mistake because the movement sent acid racing up her back. She whimpered and tears collected in her eyes. She didn't really care that they spilled over as a healer - thankfully not one of the ghostly ones - burst through the tent flaps, followed by her mother and a young soldier. 

The healer had brought her bag of supplies, and laid them on the nightstand. "I'll need a look at your back, girl," she said tersely, but not unkindly. When Crystal didn't move, she carefully rolled her over. Crystal did not miss her sharp intake of breath as the healer beheld her back. 

"Bran, go fetch Hana, immediately," she snapped at the soldier. He obeyed. Hana was probably another healer. Her back was that bad, huh?

The healer, introducing herself as Frost, began to gently peel away the bits of fabric embedded in Crystal's whip lashes. Crystal gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into her palms. When Bran returned a moment later with Hana, both healers sent the Duchess and Bran out of the tent so that they may work in peace. 

Her mother protested, but Bran soon urged her away, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. The healers made up a oily, but creamy substance in a bowl and brewed some poppy tea. After making Crystal drink it, Hana set to work on cleaning Crystal's wounds. 

Crystal was sure she passed out. When she awoke again, Frost was spreading the creamy substance over the lashes on her back. Cold rushed in Crystal and she let out a sigh of bliss. Apparently, she'd been overtaken by fever, and Hana, after urging some water and poppy tea into her, finally managed to bring the fever down. 

"We'll let you rest now, Lady," Frost said, smoothing Crystal's hair away from her face, which had also been taken care of, courtesy of Hana. After they left, Crystal had not even closed her eyes for two seconds before she felt another presence in the room. 

She cracked her eyes open slightly and her heart leapt in her chest. "How do you feel?" Rowan asked, sitting down on the edge of her cot beside her. He took in her back (she had to lay on her stomach to let the wounds breath that would result in quicker recovery) with an intake of breath. "They put dirty water on it, I bet. The Summer soldiers," he said.

Crystal nodded. She believed it. Silence enveloped the space before Crystal found her voice again. "How did you manage to stay hidden?" she mumbled, trying not to slur her words. 

"Well, after I slept in until about half sun, I woke up to find you gone and decided to go find you. I ended up helping some soldiers with skittish horses, though, and I couldn't refuse for risk of looking suspicious." He somehow found a comb and began to undo the knots in the calamity that was Crystal's hair. 

"After helping them, it was nearly evening, and I'd heard you'd been caught. At first, I didn't believe it, then I saw the gathering of fey that night. Turns out, low and behold, the real Lukas had returned - without the real Flora, though."

Rowan carefully ran the comb through Crystal's hair, being gentle around the tangles. Crystal had her eyes closed and liked the cool air he was giving off, cooling her back even more. "So, while they were torturing you, I sought out the idiot who'd assaulted you in the woods, questioned him about the Weapon, then took his head. " He hesitated. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you," he whispered.

Crystal shook her head. "Don't you dare apologize. It would've been pointless. You would have been found out, and we both wouldn't be here right now," she said, a bit sharper than she intended. 

Rowan swallowed. "Unfortunately the real Lukas caught me in his disguise before I used Winter glamour to freeze the guards eyeballs out. Lukas got away before I could do any damage to him, though."

He ran a hand through Crystal's now untangled hair. "I hated seeing them do that to you. I call dibs on Lukas."

Crystal smirked. "I called him first, frosty," she said. Then blushed. 

Frosty? Really, Crystal? Rowan didn't seem to mind though. He smirked and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

"I like that nickname," he purred, his cold breath touching her ear. "I would stay with you, but unfortunately the Queen has called a meeting I'm already incredibly late to." Rising, he dimmed the light in the tent with a wave of his hand and winked at her before ducking out under the tent flap. 

Crystal closed her eyes and fell asleep with the memory of the ice prince's gentle hands in her hair.


	29. Grave Mistakes

Crystal awoke to the pounding of rain on her tent. She was covered in cold sweat and her heart was pounding. She'd had a restless night, filled with pain from her wounds, fleeting nightmares, and strange noises that she couldn't place.

It was fairly early in the morning, so she still had time before the healers would come in and rewrap her spider silk gauze. Needing to use the bathroom, she carefully sat up, ignoring the pain that shot through her back and shoulders, and made her way over to the small chamber pot in the darkest corner of the tent, protected by a screen.

After she was finished, she hobbled over to the nightstand where she found a loaf of warm bread, cheese, and sliced melon. Realizing how hungry she was, she stuffed her face with the food and then washed it down with some hard faery wine from beside the bed.

The camp was quiet, and she was itching to stretch her legs, even though her back protested her every move. Pulling on a shirt, boots, and leather jacket, she slowly stepped out into the deluge. She quickly pulled her hood up before she could get soaked.

Why couldn't Mab turn this shit into snow? she thought. Perhaps, the Queen was resting. But, as she strode past the war tent, the thought was replaced with the truth: the Queen was most definitely not resting.

"We must be cautious with this move, your Majesty," she heard Winterbrey whisper. Crystal tiptoed closer to the entrance and struggled to hear over the pounding of rain.

"Those Summer brats have wounded more than enough of my soldiers and tortured another. They deserve no mercy, and I shall give them none," the Queen replied darkly.

A chill ran up Crystal's spine. She realized she'd been holding her breath and let it out slowly.

"But, your Majesty-" Winterbrey began to protest.

"No, General," Mab's voice was final. "That the end of this discussion."

**********

There would be another battle tomorrow, Crystal learned that afternoon. She sat around the campfire with Thistle, who was sitting way too close to her so that their knees pressed together, and Sage, who was currently briefing Thistle on the new strategy to "shred those Summer whelps to the bone", as Mab put it.

Crystal was only half listening. Apparently, they were going to send half their army to the field, while the other half came from the forest and lured the Summer soldiers to the trap. The trap being several large mouse traps lined all along the forest floor. Then, reaper crows would swoop in and begin their feast.

Quite impressively gruesome, Crystal had to admit. She would be stationed in the forest, since her wounds were not fully recovered yet. "Summer will use their Weapon on us again, so we'll need to be ready for that," Sage was saying. He picked at a chicken bone, peeling off the remaining fat.

"How will we know where to step or how to move when they launch their Weapon?" Thistle asked, scooting discreetly ever so closer to Crystal. She bristled and stood, taking up a stick and a piece of long, stiff meat.

"The Weapon you speak of is actually more like several small weapons that have a large result," Crystal explained while she held the meat on the stick over their small campfire. She ignored Thistle's hurt look.

"Somehow they've managed to combine a fire poppy inside some sort of shell that, when pressure is applied, they explode." Crystal pulled the meat away from the fire, gently blowing on it. She stood standing and met Sage's gaze, purposely ignoring Thistle.

"And, how might we deal with these...explosions?" Sage asked, his face showing he was trying to come up with an answer as well.

"Well, they are placed carefully on the edge of arrows or thrown," Crystal started. "If we run in a zig zag formation, it might first confuse the opponent, then help us to dodge them."

"But it is not certain," Thistle said, taking a swig of faery wine - the hard kind - and almost spitting the words at her. His eyes bored into hers as he glared at her.

Crystal met his gaze and felt a smirk pulling at her lips. "No, it is not," she replied.

************

Crystal sighed with frustration as she crouched with Ash behind a bush in the forest with nearly 500 other sharpshooters. "I can't feel my fucking foot," she grumbled, adjusting her position. They'd been crouched there, waiting, for nearly an hour.

"Then eliminate your fucking foot," Ash murmured beside her, a smile ghosting his lips.

Crystal stared open mouthed at him. "If you weren't royalty, I'd hit you," she whispered. She wished she could stand up as well; her knees and hips were starting to cramp. One of the healers had given her a small lamp flower to relieve the pain.

Unfortunately, it might not do any good if she were wounded further or killed.

"Where are they?" Crystal grumbled, painting frost on the leaf in her face. "They should have been here by now!" She would not let worry seep into her bones. She would not think about Rowan.

"Be patient, they will come," Ash said, shifting his own position. Perhaps his foot was falling asleep, too.

Crystal said no more as she continued to paint frost onto the bush. Suddenly, shouts and a couple explosions pulled her back to reality. "Finally!" she said, delight racing through her as her instinct kicked in, adrenaline pumping through her veins as Summer soldiers, dressed in dark green fighting leathers, raced through the trees, chased by Winter soldiers in silver.

Several were already wounded. A couple hopped desperately on one leg before being cut down by Winter. Crystal felt herself grin as the first soldier leading the pack stepped on the trap. Realizing his mistake he stumbled and tried to turn, but this movement caused a domino effect.

Screams filled the air as hundreds of small mouse traps snapped into action, trapping several soldiers' feet, hands, wrists, noses, necks, and legs. Many fell to the ground and were quickly devoured by the snapping traps.

Flowery bushes were slowly sprouting up everywhere. The soldiers with longbows and crossbows began firing, their aim terrible, but they still hit a few Winter sharpshooters. The Winter soldiers, along with Ash began firing, creating one big, mouse slaughter.

More Summer soldiers were racing toward their comrades, having realized the strategy, firing the whole time. Apparently, they were talented sharpshooters as well. Winter soldiers began falling with arrows through their throats.

Crystal rose from her hiding position and flung ice daggers in the Summer sharpshooters' direction, hitting home nearing every time, trying to aim for the pits in their armor.

Suddenly Crystal spotted Rowan in the fray, battling with a Summer general who was wielding an axe dangerously well. She saw the prince laboring, sweat dripping down his brow and blood leaking from a cut on his cheek. She supposed she should go lend him aid.

Carefully, Crystal maneuvered out from behind the bush, dancing across the forest floor, trying not to step on any writhing Summer fey. She heard Ash much too late. He yelled for her to stop, the urgency in his voice not registering with her fast enough.

She looked up in time to see a familiar Summer soldier, golden hair glinting in the dim light, throw a small explosive in her direction. Her legs locked up and her heart skipped a beat.

Because his aim was terrible and the Weapon exploded right beside the general with the axe and Rowan.


	30. Healing

Crystal felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart seem to stop. The world slowed down, time withdrawing into itself so that everything moved in slow motion. The blast from the Weapon rendered Crystal deaf for a few precious minutes. 

She finally snapped out of her frozen reverie to run across the clearing towards where several Summer soldiers who weren't caught in traps, were hauling away their legless axman. He was screaming, Crystal knew by the way his mouth moved, but she could not hear it. She could not even hear the fierce beat of her heart as she ran to Rowan's side.

Her ears rang and her eyes and nose stung from the smoke. She fell to her knees beside Rowan, who was unconscious. She quickly assessed him for wounds, her heart pounding and fear overpowering her instinct to remain emotionless. She could have been screaming for all she knew. 

When sound finally started to return to her sensitive Fey ears, she finally found the worst wound on the prince. Aside from a small cut on his left cheek, and bloody knuckles, Rowan was intact. Except for the calamity that was his left leg. 

Crystal felt bile rise in her throat as she stared at it. Most of the flesh had been blown off, leaving torn muscle, tendon, and bone visible. How would it ever heal? They would have to amputate it....

She sensed movement and looked back to see Rowan turn his head to look at her. His lips moved but she could not hear him because of the ringing in her ears. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she quickly turned away from him and to the side, retching up her breakfast and then some. 

After she'd basically vomited up her appendix, she turned back to Rowan, who'd begun to shiver violently. "How...bad...is it?" he stumbled almost breathlessly. His eyes roamed the trees above, sweat glazing his forehead and dripping down his temples. 

"You're in shock, Rowan," she murmured, wiping at her own sweaty forehead. "We need to get you back to camp." She was vaguely aware of Summer soldiers retreating, some trying to pull their trapped comrades who hadn't turned into bushes, away from the scene. 

Rowan said no more and laid his head back, passing out once again. Edgebriar, one of Rowan's best Thornguards, came rushing over, blood trickling down his cheek like tears from a wound in his forehead. 

"He needs a healer, quickly!" Crystal snapped. Edgebriar took one look at Rowan's leg and swallowed. 

"He'll need about five healers," he said gruffly. He quickly tore off a piece of cloth from his shirt and efficiently made a temporary wrapping for the prince's leg. Rowan was still unconscious as his guard wrapped his mangled leg. Crystal refused to watch, instead focusing on their surroundings. 

Injured Winter fey were dragging themselves and their comrades back to camp. A few Summer soldiers were taken prisoner - including Lukas. Crystal met his eyes as Thistle dragged the Summer knight away. The look Lukas gave her could only be described as pure evil. 

Crystal glared back with as much malice. 

"I'll get him back to the camp. You go help the others," Edgebriar said, scooping Rowan up like he was just a boy. Well, Edgebriar was considerably bigger in height and shoulder width than the prince. 

Crystal normally wouldn't hesitate to put a faery in their place for ordering her about, but this was different. She knelt there for a few moments, watching Edgebriar carry Rowan across the clearing. "Take care of him," she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. 

Then, she stood on wobbly legs and went to help Ash and the others haul their soldiers back to camp. 

**********

The night was filled with screams and moans of agony throughout the camp. Several tents were filled with wounded soldiers, and the tents that were full, soldiers had to be set up outside on blankets. The warm bonfires clustered throughout cast a warm glow over everything. 

Warm bread and ale was passed around, and the soldiers either declined because of nausea form the pain, or asked for seconds - and thirds. Crystal walked through the camp, her hand bandaged from a cut she'd unknowingly received from one of the pieces of the traps that had blown apart in the explosion. 

She thought back to the battlefield and the events from earlier. Normally, she would never have become squeamish around blood or wounds, but seeing them on Rowan....

She shook her head to clear the sight and stopped before his tent. She hesitated, glancing at the two guards posted outside. One gave her a small nod and she ducked inside, holding her breath. 

Inside, several faery lights floated about, making blue light dance about the room. Rowan lay on his cot, asleep, two ghostly healers finishing up their duties. One turned slowly and looked at her, breathing out and casting a cloud in front of his hood. 

She had to hold back her shiver. After the ghosts left, she slowly approached Rowan's bed, trying not to make any sound as she walked, so as not to wake him. She knelt and her eyes automatically went to his leg, but it was hidden under the white sheets. She swallowed and reached out to smooth a lock of his hair away from his forehead. 

At this, he stirred a little, swallowing dryly and slowly opening his eyes. He turned his head to look at her and she felt herself smile a little at the relief that shone in his blue eyes. She did not remove her fingers from his forehead and hair. "How do you feel?" she whispered. 

He swallowed again. "It hurts," he croaked out. His voice was raw as if he'd been screaming for the past five hours. He probably had. It was definitely not the time to notice but she blushed slightly as her eyes fell on Rowan's bare torso, the light turning his skin blue. 

"Do you want some ale?" she offered. She glanced around the tent for a bottle. Rowan coughed and shook his head. He was shivering again. Crystal felt his forehead and her heart rate spiked, "You're burning up!" she said, trying not to sound too panic but failing miserably.

But in response, Rowan pulled the covers up to his chin, his teeth chattering. Crystal stood and leaned out of the tent to address on of his guards. "Get one of the ghosts, quickly! It's Rowan, he has a fever." The guards gave her a strange look, probably at being ordered around by someone who wasn't their master and because she'd addressed the prince by his first name. 

But, after a few precious moments, one of the guards ran off to fetch one of the ghostly healers. Crystal ducked back inside and knelt beside Rowan again. He'd curled up into the fetal position, wincing, probably because of his leg, and shivering like mad. "C-can you...build a fire?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "We can't have open fire in the tents, Rowan," she murmured back, continuing to stroke his hair. It was slick with sweat and grime, but she didn't care. The movement seemed to calm him a little, his shivers ceasing slightly and his demeanor relaxing.

"Thank...I appreciate...you being here, Crystal," he said, his eyes still closed. "You're...the only one who's stayed...so far." 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned in to gently place a kiss to his forehead. Worry spiked through her at how warm he felt. A Winter faery, much less a Winter prince, should never feel this warm. He sighed and relaxed even more, probably at the feel of her cold lips against his burning skin. 

Crystal hadn't missed that he'd almost said the two forbidden words in the land of Faery. But she didn't give a shit. He never, and would never, owe her anything. She felt kindness and something else, something that made her heart feel warm and a lump force its way to her throat, causing tears to spill over her cold cheeks, that made her whisper...

"Always."


	31. Thistle

It was around midnight when Crystal jerked awake beside Rowan's cot. Disoriented and covered in a light sheen of sweat, she glanced around, her hand immediately going to her dagger strapped at her thigh. 

Rowan was sound asleep, although restlessly, sweat glistening on his skin with fever. She carefully reached out to feel his forehead. He was no better. Even after applying several cold rags to his skin and forcing ice water down his throat, he was still burning up with fever. 

Something was terribly wrong. He'd also begun to hallucinate. The only thing Crystal could think of that would be the logical occurrence of his illness, was that the Weapon that had exploded next to him contained a toxic gas, therefore rendering the victim terribly sick. 

Crystal ran a hand through her tangled hair. Rowan's lips were paler than usual and terribly dry. She had to try again to bring his fever down. Snatching up two rags, she dunked them in the water bucket next to his cot, sending icy glamour into the water so that it was nearly freezing. She carefully wrung out the rags and placed one on the prince's bare chest, and one on his forehead. 

Rowan stirred slightly and coughed in his sleep. Crystal smoothed back his hair and her brow furrowed with worry. Making a decision, she straightened and slowly exited the tent, reluctant to leave him but knowing she had to find someone who knew an antidote. She posted five of his Thornguards outside his tent, which didn't take much persuasion.

Heading across the camp toward the healers' tent, she swallowed and took a breath as the ghostly healers' chill crept up her spine and rent fear deep in her belly. Thankfully, one of the ghosts was outside of the tent, sitting on a log and nursing a cup of some dark liquid that smelled an awful lot like burnt coffee and something dying, 

"I need your help," she said evenly, her hand instantly going to her knife belted at her waist. The ghost did not acknowledge her presence, just sat there as still as a corpse, the soft breeze ruffling its dirty blue cloak. 

Crystal waited for a spell before sighing impatiently. She opened her mouth to say something more but then the ghost slowly reached its arm to the side, patting the log beside it. She hesitated but sat, waiting for an answer. 

You seek to save the prince, the ghost told her through its mind. It wasn't a question. The ghosts voice was male and Crystal swallowed, nodding, somehow not being able to bring herself to speak. Then you must obtain it from one of the members of the Black Rose. 

The ghost paused and did not continue. "What...is the Black Rose?" Crystal asked carefully. She had a bad feeling in her gut but she just needed to hear it 'said' (considering the ghost was speaking to her through her mind.)

Look deeper into those around you. You will see. The members of the Black Rose all wear a sigil tattooed on their upper chests. I suppose you will find one of them soon enough. All members carry a vial of Faux Blood, the antidote to being directly exposed to Devouring Gas. It will save your prince. The whole vial, if you will, the ghost explained. He was silent afterward. 

Crystal nodded, not really knowing how she would find a member of this mysterious group the ghost healer spoke of. "I appreciate the information," she said, quickly hurrying off. The ghost did not respond. 

***********

Early rays of sunlight were beginning to peak above the horizon when Crystal leaned against a tree, getting more and more anxious by the moment. Several non ghostly healers were attending to Rowan, non of who could figure out how to help him except try to bring the fever down. 

It was only when he started coughing up blood that the healers became deeply concerned, rushing about to bring more cold rags, as if that would completely fix him. Crystal had looked all night for a tattoo on the upper part of soldier's chests. So far, she hadn't had any luck. 

Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, thinking back to the General in the Summer encampment who'd had a sigil of a black rose tattooed upon his chest. Whose throat had been brutally slit outside her and Rowan's (Lukas and Flora's) tent. 

It didn't make any sense. Who or what would have killed him? Was it one of his own? Had he betrayed them? She pinched her nose and shook her head slightly, deprived of sleep and feeling a headache coming on. 

"Hey! You look like you need this," a familiar voice said near her ear, its sensual timbre making her skin tingle. She sighed and opened her eyes, bringing them to rest on Thistle, hating how handsome he looked in the early morning dawn. 

He handed a cup of the same dark liquid the ghost had been drinking to her. She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, what is this stuff?" she asked him, taking a cautious sniff.

"The humans call it coffee, or espresso, if you will," Thistle said, leaning against the tree, his chest brushing her shoulder. She fought the urge to step away. But, in doing so, she might seem weak or disgusted by him. Such an insult could set him off, and there was something strange about him today.

"I can't believe soldiers are now trusting mortal beverages," she griped. She took a sip and almost spit it out. "I can't-" she started to say, handing it back to Thistle, who chuckled and took the mug, his fingers brushing hers.

"You look exhausted, Crystal," he murmured, sipping at the disgusting beverage. She turned her head to give a snarky reply...

....and came face to face with a small tattoo in the shape of a delicate black rose peeking out of the open collar of Thistle's black shirt. 

The words caught in her throat and she found herself staring at it. "Crystal?" she heard him ask. "Is everything all right...?" He paused and she snapped out of it, feeling as if she were the one guilty.

"You...um...got a tattoo!" she remarked, trying to make the conversation light hearted. But Thistle wasn't having any of it. He quickly pulled his collar to cover the mark, his eyes growing dark and masked with something Crystal had never seen before on his face. 

"What about it?" he asked. More like snapped, really.

Crystal was rendered speechless for a moment. "I...well...where? What's it supposed to mean? Family or house marking?" He wasn't buying her little game, apparently.

Thistle tossed his coffee mug aside, the black liquid seeping into the soil. "Why do you ask such sinister questions, snow princess?" he purred, stepping closer. Crystal instinctively began to back away further into the forest, her hand going to her knife. "You act as if I am in the wrong, somehow," he continued.

The expression Thistle wore was no longer the playful, mischievous mask that decorated his face. Now he looked as if he literally wanted to eat her alive. This was a dark Thistle, one Crystal had failed to see coming, or had been tricked like everyone else. The thought of being tricked, led into a trap, enraged her. 

"Who are you?" she snarled, this time drawing and brandishing her knife, twirling it between her fingers both to intimidate him and calm her nerves. Her vision was oddly tilting, and dizziness was playing a dangerous game with her head. 

He grinned, and she hated how it made her heart race - and not in fear. "I think you know who I am, Crystal," he said, his voice like acid on velvet. She continued to back up slowly, playing the game of cat and mouse, although the mouse had a needle in its jaws. 

"What is the Black Rose?" she snapped. "Stop toying with me." She almost swore as her back met with the trunk of a tree. Her vision swayed and she felt strongly lightheaded, her limbs growing heavy. Panic washed through her and she could only watch as Thistle continued towards her. He only stopped moving when his body was nearly centimeters from touching hers. She wanted to push him away in disgust and ravish him at the same time. 

God, what was wrong with her? She hated herself for feeling this way. Thistle leaned close and spoke in her ear, his cold breath sending a shiver down her spine. "The Black Rose is its own order, its own kingdom..." he trailed off to run his finger down her cheek, leaving frost behind. 

"And I, its king." 

And that is when the darkness overtook her, and Crystal new nothing more.


	32. Chapter 32

All was darkness and tilting velvety colors across Crystal's vision. She caught the sound of voices but they appeared to be far away, and she felt strange, as if she were floating. The more she tried to focus on the voices, the farther they sounded and the more confusion she became. 

It must have been days, weeks, or years, Crystal didn't know, when she finally dragged her eyes open. A bright light insulted her vision, making her squint and bring a lazy arm to shield them. A few moment later, the realization hit her that it was the bright snow she was staring at. Slowly pulling her arm away from her face, she glanced around, groggy and trying in vain to get her head to stop spinning. She sat at the base of a large tree, the snow soft beneath her bottom. 

She saw several figures, all sidhe, standing around or sitting around meager campfires, nursing ale or cooked meat. All wore black and had strange marks on their faces to make them appear skeletal. 

Crystal's brow furrowed in confusion and she absentmindedly felt for her weapons. They were gone. All of them. Beginning to panic, she searched desperately, only then realizing how heavy her limbs felt, as if they were made of lead. Her wrists were bound tightly with rope, leaving rashes on her skin. 

"It'll wear off in a couple hours, don't you worry, little kitten," a rough, snarly voice said to her left. She jumped and turned to meet the eyes of a small redcap, his teeth a deep red from a recent meal. He wore a heavy fur coat and his red hat, and he looked not far from genuinely pissed. 

"What...who are you? Where am I?" she stammered, trying to calm herself. Deep breaths, Crystal, deep breaths. She watched the redcap approach and begin cutting the rope tied around her wrists. She was so out of it that she hadn't noticed they'd been tied. 

"Shut your trap, girl!" he snapped, spitting at my feet. "You're requested in the King's tent," he said, hacking up something vile and brown. 

Crystal frowned and almost kicked him, but considering the circumstances, she'd probably be either bitten or tortured, so she held back while gritting her teeth. She tried to remember what happened before she ended up at the base of the tree with her hands tied. Her mind was muddled and it hurt to think, so she let the redcap lead her to the King's tent. 

The tent they came to was small and a rusty dun color, not very king-like in Crystal's opinion. Two guards dressed in black armor with their faces marked the same as the skeletal figures in the forest, stood on either side of the tent entrance, glaring at Crystal as she and the redcap approached. She was too confused and groggy still to glare back. The redcap grunted and pulled one tent flap away, letting Crystal go through. 

A tall figure stood on the opposite end of the tent, sipping an elegant glass of red wine. Or was it blood...she couldn't tell. "I hope my soldiers haven't treated you too poorly," the figure drawled, slowly turning so Crystal could see his face. 

Everything came rushing back in a blow so big it made Crystal step back. The Black Rose, the antidote, Rowan...

Crystal swallowed. Rowan was still ill...How long had she been out for? She shook her head slightly and forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. The male standing before her wore the same markings on his face as his soldiers while donning a dark red shirt with black pants and boots. His hair was loose and the tattoo shown in its entirety out from the collar of his shirt, which hung open to reveal part of his lean chest.

"I apologize for the impromptu travel," he said, sipping his wine. "I did hate to have to bind you, but it was necessary for security purposes." He smiled, the gesture looking alien and disturbing on his skeletal painted face. 

Thistle. She now remembered. Thistle was the King of the Black Rose. "How...why? Why do this," she asked plainly, gesturing to their surroundings. "Furthermore, why bring me into this? And, even more importantly, what the fuck is the Black Rose?" The questions poured from her in a torrent.

Thistle smiled again, but this time it was near predatory. "You are still suffering from the effects of the powder, so I will speak plainly with you," he said, setting down his wine glass on a nightstand, instead picking up a bone dagger and examining it. 

"You see, for decades the citizens of both Summer and Winter have felt rather...cheated. Insulting, really, how the royals treat us, as if, sometimes, we are no better than humans." He twirled the bone dagger in his fingers. "So, having enough of the bullshit thrown at us from the royals, we deviated. We created a new system, a new order, bent on the union of both Summer and Winter to achieve our goal that the royals have denied us: freedom. 

"Liberation from those who would seek to use us for their own agendas and then spit us out, turning us into peasants lower than half-breeds." He brought the dagger down upon the wood of the nightstand, making Crystal jump and causing a small splinter in the wood. 

Thistle turned to face Crystal. "For four generations we have existed as a solitary and secret organization and kingdom. Yet recently, we have decided that our kingdom has been kept solitary and secret long enough. We want to show that we have just as much power as Summer and Winter," he said, slowly approaching Crystal. 

She stood still, gazing at him in barely disguised horror. "We want to become an official court. A court of both Seelie and Unseelie, united under one banner. To show the world that we, in the end, are all Fey and live in one world." 

Crystal blinked and swallowed, finally finding her voice. "You would seek to wage war against both courts to do so?" she asked icily, finally realizing his intention. "Such an act would be foolish. You're numbers would be wiped out before you even set foot on the battlefield."

Thistle grinned. "Do you know how many of us there are, sweetheart?" he purred. Crystal felt a chill run down her spine at his words and hated the thrill sent through her body at the fetching name he called her. She shook her head.

"Let's just say it would be...rather unfortunate for the Summer and Winter armies as most of their soldiers would suffocate at being cramped together on the battlefield by the Black Rose soldiers," Thistle replied. Crystal shuddered, letting her horror show plainly on her face. 

"So...where do I fit into this? Why are you telling me?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer, because, deep down, she already knew it. 

Thistle's smile spread even wider, revealing his white teeth. "Because I trust you. I have only ruled the Black Rose for a little more than two years. The last leader had someone to rule beside him, to share in equal power."

He stepped closer. "And that, my dear Crystal, is where you come in," he whispered, reaching out and folding a lock of white hair behind her ear. She shivered and wanted to push him away, but didn't. 

Thistle leaned closer and leaned the side of his head against hers, whispering in her ear. "I want you, Crystal, to be my Queen."


	33. Queen

A wash of both fury and hunger enveloped Crystal like a warm embrace. She could be a Queen and hold power over an entire army. She hadn't even yet seen the numbers of Thistle's forces. 

The thought of his name brought her crashing out of her reverie. She almost started when she looked up to see his dark green eyes boring into hers. His gaze was hungry and dangerous, like a cobra's. "I don't...that's quite hasty, don't you think?" she snapped, but it came out more breathless than she meant. 

Why was her heart beating so hard? Thistle inclined his head and breathed in. Breathed her in. "Not exactly. We are in the middle of a full blown war," he pointed out. "Think about it, Crystal," he whispered, leaning in ever closer, his scent mingling with hers, making the air smell of forest and ice. 

"You could have an almost unimaginable amount of power as a Queen," he continued. "My Queen..." he slowly reached up and ran his scarred finger along her cheekbone. His eyes had softened and became filled with a sudden hope and pleading that he almost looked like a different person. 

Crystal shook her head. "Not like Titania or Mab, or even my mother, Thistle. They'd outnumber you combined." 

"That's why we have great numbers of each court to fight for us - to go against Summer and Winter. And you are more powerful than you think, Crystal," Thistle whispered again, his lips brushing a featherlight kiss upon hers. "So much potential."

You don't know me at all, coward. Crystal swallowed and a plan formed in her head. She would be a Queen. And he her servant. She would not be tricked into being a prisoner of an army who was too stupid to accept the rule of their own court. They should be banished from Faery. Perhaps, she could make that happen. 

But first, she had to get around Thistle. He was a Winter fey, like her, so it would be a bit more challenging to bring him down. But she was smart, and she could play dirty. She'd make him suffer, as she had many of her other enemies. 

So, she kissed him, closing the distance between them and making him believe she accepted his offer, that she believed him. A thrill went through her blood as he responded just how she'd predicted. As he fell into her trap. 

His hands around her harsh waist, he brought her flush against him, trailing sloppy kisses down the column of her neck as he backed her up against one of the wooden pillars holding the tent up. Small growls were coming from deep in his throat as he tasted her with tongue and teeth, all the while his hands roving her body. 

She almost stabbed him when his hands gripped her bottom. She let out a snarl of annoyance and tried to pivot away from his greedy hands but he misinterpreted her language and pinned her harder to the pillar, capturing her mouth in a savage kiss. 

I hate you, she silently cursed, her hands gripping his shirt. I hate you I hate you I hate-

Yet, the curse that escaped her mouth was one of pleasure as Thistle rocked his hips against hers, causing heat to spread through her entire body. "Thistle, now is not the time to-"

But he silenced her protests with more of his wet kisses, his cold breath traveling down her throat and straight to her heart. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she push him away? She told herself it was because she had to make him believe she'd agreed to rule with him. 

What a lie. 

I thought fey couldn't lie! Ha, joke's on you, bitch. You can't even weave your own trap without whoring yourself first. Crystal jerked her head away and finally shoved him away. "Enough, damn you!" she yelled. Whether it was more at him or at herself, Crystal couldn't be sure. They were both breathing hard and something cracked in her when she registered the look of genuine surprise and hurt cross his face. 

The black paint on his features was smudged from their bout of false passion, and Crystal suddenly saw the lost boy underneath the kingly, traitor, guise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..." Thistle began but she cut him off, giving him a look that was both seductive and deadly at the same time. 

"If you want me to be your Queen, you need to learn how to work with me as an equal. As your Queen, you will obey me when I give you orders and cease to do something when I say so. Is that understood?" she hissed with an intensity that bit into her skin like acid. 

She thought he would argue back, try to twist her words or act offended. Instead, he swallowed and found the ground quite interesting. "Yes, Crystal, I understand," he said, scuffing the dirt with his boot. 

Crystal approached him, pushing thoughts of the sidhe who threatened to invade her mind and make her feel guilty to the deepest parts of her mind. To do this, she would need to forget that prince with sharp blue eyes and raven hair, or else she'd doomed both him and herself. 

"Good, I thought so," she whispered, leaning up to press a deadly kiss upon his cold cheek. He stood stone still and for a moment, it was as if he ceased to breathe.


	34. Rest & Ruin

The early dawn was more like a mockery to Crystal than a source of rare peace. She ignored her growling stomach and aching heart as she trudged through the now snow covered forest back towards the Winter campground. 

She didn't know quite how her diabolical plan would span out in the long run, but she had both a ravenous and panicked instinct about it. One side of her told her to run, to go back to the Winter camp and tell all that Thistle was planning, that he was a traitor to Mab's court. The other side of her wanted to play the game of cat and mouse. 

She wanted to hurt Thistle, she wanted to bring him to his knees and make him beg for his life. He would never beg for death - he was too proud. She wanted to spice things up in this glorious war. 

Thistle's campground was actually a few minutes walk from his army's camp, which was hidden deeper within the forest. Crystal had come to the conclusion that Thistle's army was either too cowardly to enter the battle, or they were biding their time and waiting for the opportune moment. 

As she neared the camp, her heartbeat quickened. Technically, she'd told a very bended truth to Thistle; there was really no way in hell that she would join him and pose as his queen. However, she would lead him to believe so until she completed the step in her plan which would more or less get her to number one on his personal shit list. 

Stepping as quiet as she could, she crept through the trees, her ears picking up the loud an frankly ghastly snores of the soldiers still asleep. She held her breath, praying their numbers were small as the camp came into view....

She let out her breath in one long, quiet exhalation of both panic and acceptance. Thousands. There were thousands of fey, both sidhe, animal, and more, still and sleeping on the snow covered ground. They were all dressed in some form of black or gray. Winter court colors. 

Some were dressed head to toe in red. Had even dyed their hair red. Crystal swallowed and slowly began to creep away when she heard someone cough nearest her. Her glamour immediately formed an ice dagger and her senses went on high alert, ready for any danger. 

"Water...do you have any water?" a weak, raspy voice uttered. She looked toward the voice and came face to face with a winter sidhe, one side of his face a map of intricate scars. She felt as if she recognized him from somewhere, long ago. 

She thought about running but his voice and face seemed to draw her in. She looked around to make sure the other soldiers were still sleeping before she quickly approached him, kneeling down and taking a handful of snow. With her glamour she fashioned a small cup of ice, melting the snow inside it.

"Who are you?" she asked him in a low murmur. She handed him the cup and he slowly sat up, wincing. He was obviously injured. 

"My name is Andal," he rasped, taking a sip. "My vocal chords were severely damaged a couple days ago - one of the ogres grew angry with me -" he coughed rather violently and made Crystal wince at the loud noise. Only a couple soldiers stirred, rolling over and groaning in annoyance. 

Andal took another sip of water and it was then that Crystal recognized him. He was one of her mother's guards who'd gone missing during a hunt a few months ago. "Andal, how did you -" she started to say but he shook his head. 

"Our company was ambushed in the woods, all the other men brutally slain within the space of five minutes but I managed to escape..." he restrained another cough and took another drink of his water. Crystal raised an eyebrow at his confession. Her mother had not trained many deserters but she supposed given the situation he'd had no choice. 

"The fey who killed the others, they wore all red, like them -" he said, pointing to the red-clothed soldiers slumbering across the clearing - "I could only get about a mile or two before they caught up to me, decided to spare me for the sake of torment and questioning."

"How are you here?" Crystal whispered to him. "How are you a part of Thistle's army?"

Andal shook his head. "We were forced to come here. I am still as loyal to Winter as you..." he hesitated, probably realizing he was treading on dangerous ground in assuming anything of Crystal. "The real army...are the Blood Roses," he told her, nodding over to the red clad warriors only now beginning to stir.

"You fool!" she hissed. "You could have overpowered them, all of you who didn't want to be here, you could have run - you can run now..." Crystal felt anger rise in her as she took his glass of water and splashed it in his face, startling him. "Wake up, Andal! You're better than this. My mother favored you, remember?" Possibly a little too much. 

"No, you don't understand, my lady. The Blood Roses are different. They're darker, wrong. You have to go, have to run before they turn you too! Lord knows who's next..." He looked around, his hands beginning to tremble and fear wiring his eyes like cords. 

"Andal, explain to me, what are you talking about?" she hissed frantically. "I need to know so I can tell my mother and Queen Mab!" But he was shaking his head, flopping back down on the ground and covering his head as if to protect himself from falling debris as the Blood Rose soldiers stood, beginning to make their way through the camp, stepping around and over sleeping bodies. 

Andal began to slowly rock back and forth and it took a moment before Crystal realized he was crying softly. Crystal now saw that the Blood Roses uniforms had hoods that shadowed their faces underneath, the blackness beyond seeming infinite. 

Uncertain fear wrought her bones and made the hairs on the back of her neck. As the red soldiers came closer, terror unlike any other she'd ever felt wrenched her body to the point of tears. She stood and ran, leaving Andal and the other soldiers. No, prisoners, she thought. She ran, instinct taking over logic as she sprinted through the forest, kicking snow up behind her. 

She rounded a tree and screeched to a halt. A red clad soldier stood in her path, standing at least seven feet tall, still as a statue. He didn't even seem to breathe. Crystal gasped with panic, feeling the icy chill rip down her throat painfully. Wait...

Cold. She felt cold. Yet, she was a winter fey, she wasn't supposed to feel the climate of her habitat and what she was made of. She turned to run again, confused, only to be stopped by yet another red soldier. An unruly and very uncharacteristic sob wracked her throat before she began to shiver violently.

"Who...who are you?" she could barely get out, not seeming able to catch her breath as she stared at the black abyss beyond the soldier's hood. She saw out of the corner of her eye a third red soldier had appeared, standing as still as death. 

Then, all three took one step closer to her, and then another, and another. They all appeared to be male, based on their physique. Crystal let out a sound of panic and conjured two ice daggers, the cold biting into her skin. She swallowed and tried to get her bearings but her heart was just beating too fast. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, trying to take deep breaths and take control. 

"I am your Queen," she whispered. "You will obey me." When she felt slightly more confident, she tried again, a bit louder. "I am your Queen, and you will obey me!" 

She opened her eyes and gave her best glare-in-the-face-of-terror glare. The soldiers had stepped ever closer as she'd had her eyes closed and now she could smell the sweet peppermint and frost scent wafting off of them. For a moment, it was all too ironic, that these creatures of terror could smell so lovely. 

She uttered the phrase again, louder this time, staring at the soldier's chest in front of her instead of his face. Confidence finally roared through her and her heart rate slowed to a calmer pace. Until the soldier in front of her said one word.

"No."

She made the mistake of looking up at him in surprise, shocked that he would defy her. Then, her head spinning, in the next moment she remembered the snow rushing up to meet her. Afterwards, all she knew was darkness.


	35. Red Snow

Crystal's head throbbed as she struggled to open her eyes. Her stomach growled, reminding her of how long it'd been since she last ate, even as her throbbing head prevented any desire of food from entering her mind.

Blinking, Crystal slowly sat up, taking in her surroundings. She was in Thistle's tent, on his cot, alone. The daylight suggested it was late afternoon. At first, she remembered nothing of earlier that morning as she yawned and rubbed at her temples. Then, it all came rushing back to her. The Blood Roses, the red cloaked figures that instilled irrational fear and emotions into those around them. Thistle was their king. How he was able to master the fear they wrought upon him, she didn't know. 

Panic began to settle in her veins. She had to find out exactly what the Blood Roses were and somehow report back to Mab. And then there was the matter of finding the Faux Blood antidote for Rowan. She didn't know how long she'd been away from the Winter camp. Rowan's condition could be worse by now. It pained her to think of him as dead, all because she had been fooling around, thinking she could pose as a queen to an organization that should never have formed. 

She swallowed down her panic and, with a bite of determination, began searching for a small vial of red liquid. It had to be in here, of all places. Rifling quickly through the piles of clothing discarded on the floor, strewn bottles, and other oddities, frustration began to set in. How could she have been so stupid, trying to trick Thistle. She had a mission! This was no time to pretend to be royalty. 

Heaving out an angry sigh, Crystal placed her hands on her hips and tried to think. Then, something small and red caught her eye. She looked toward where a small glass vial was peeking out from behind a wooden chest in the corner and her breath caught in her throat. She rushed to move the chest a bit so that she could grab the vial. 

It was small, barely fitting in her palm, and the red substance inside certainly looked like blood. The only indication that it was the antidote was the faded label wrapped around the body. The sound of boots walking toward the tent caused her to gasp slightly and shove the bottle in a tight pocket in her coat. 

She quickly laid back down on the cot, her back facing the tent entry, the adrenaline rushing through her body making her temporarily forget her headache. She took deep breaths, trying to slow her frantic heartbeat as she heard the tent flap being pushed aside and someone stepping through. 

The footsteps paused, their owner probably wondering if she was awake or not. When they made the sound of edging closer, Crystal slowly rolled over, blinking slowly and making it look as if she'd just woken up. 

Thistle perched on the edge of the cot, gently brushing a white strand of hair from her forehead. Crystal fought to slap his hand away. "Are you feeling better?" he asked coldly. Crystal swallowed, nodding slowly, trying to paint a concerned and slightly frightened expression on her face. 

"What were those things?" she whispered, having a sinking feeling he knew all about her run in with the Blood Roses. 

Thistle regarded her as an angry alcoholic father might regard his wife who he'd just discovered harbored love for another man. "They were my personal bodyguards, Crystal. You were never meant to encounter them like that." 

Crystal watched him and said nothing. 

Thistle sighed and looked away. "The Blood Roses are corrupted ghosts who once roamed the darkest parts of the Wyldwood," he explained. "They are outcasts, abominations with no court or king...until now." 

Thistle allowed a small, dark smile that sent chills up Crystal's spine. "Now they have a king, a court. They are now useful, warriors once more. They can instill the worst kind of fear into any fey they encounter; they can make a fey so afraid, they just...die."

The room tilted and Crystal feared she would heave up her nonexistent breakfast. "So this is how you plan to destroy the Summer and Winter courts? With fear?" she asked, her voice raspy. The look in Thistle's eyes disturbed her more than anything, as if he were possessed by some unknown entity that changed his personality from one thing to another in the period of a split second. 

"I plan to use the Blood Roses to show the Black Roses' power. I plan, not to kill everyone in the courts, no! But to make them afraid to challenge us, to make them see us as an equally, maybe even superior court in the Nevernever," Thistle went on, making Crystal's heart beat faster as he went on. 

"Once we have both courts wrapped around our fingers, that is when we will have ultimate power, so that one day, we may rule all of Faery." He smiled fully now, watching Crystal as she fought to not let her expression become one of complete horror. Thistle was crazy, she decided. Completely crazy. Or ill, one of the two. 

Crystal found herself shaking her head. "Why do you keep using 'we'?" Even though she knew the answer, she wanted to hear him say it. 

Thistle seemed confused by this. "Crystal, as Queen, you also are a part of the Black Roses. Unfortunately, the Blood Roses do not see you as their ruler, only me," Thistle replied. "We are in this plan together. You can leave those dirty royals and the princes behind. This is your life now." Thistle did not see Crystal's clenched jaw as he leaned over her, bringing his face dangerously close. 

His cold breath washed over her face as he trapped Crystal between his arms, his body pressing against hers. "And the death of Prince Rowan will be the first display of the power of the Shadow court." 

Crystal snapped. Faster than a viper she brought her forehead hard against his, shoving him off of her as he elicited a yelp of both surprise and pain. She jumped up, palming the wicked looking knife from the nightstand and forming an ice dagger in her other hand. "I will never be your queen, Thistle! You've gone too far, now. You are a disgrace to the Unseelie and a disgrace to Winter!" she found herself yelling.

Emotions wracked through her as she slowly backed toward the tent entrance. Horror at his insanity, disappointment for ever thinking he was ever an acquaintance, and anger at herself for ever thinking she could cheat her way into becoming a queen. 

The look on Thistle's face when he straightened made the hairs on Crystal's neck stand up. "You're making a big mistake, sweetheart," he snarled. "This is your last chance to apologize..." he said as he drew two black daggers, coated in green poison. 

Crystal shook her head, drawing winter glamour to her. "Go to hell, Thistle," she whispered, and lunged. Their blades met in a song of metal and ice, Thistle parrying and swinging away from her advances. Crystal stepped lightly, avoiding the bottles strewn across the floor. Thistle tried kicking a bottle at her face, but she simply slapped it away, making it shatter against the wooden pillars of the tent, which only seemed to enrage Thistle more. 

He lunged, not holding back any longer. He swung his fist, catching Crystal on the jaw. The move surprised her and she faltered for a second. Taking the momentary advantage, Thistle shoved her up against the pillar, placing his poisoned dagger up against her throat just as she placed the tip of her ice dagger against his heart. 

"I will be disappointed to see you go," Thistle panted, baring his teeth in a sickly smile, relishing in her discomfort at their close proximity. "I always enjoyed our...encounters." Crystal snarled in disgust as he pushed a knee between her thighs, pinning her further. 

"Fuck you," she snarled back, pressing her dagger harder against his chest and drawing blood. She wanted to cut his heart out and bring it to Mab, but at the same time she knew he'd slit her throat just as quickly, killing her instantly. 

"Yes, I remember when you did, back at the Winter encampment," Thistle hissed, bringing his mouth closer to her ear. "And you liked it, you wanted me. You begged for me, and now the very sight of me disgusts you." A flash of hurt crossed his voice but it was gone as soon as it came. 

"Let me tell you a little secret, Crystal," he spat. Her name sounded vile on his lips. "I loved you, cared for you, and you threw me out like trash. You avoided me, looked down on me, because of him."

Crystal stopped breathing, finally meeting his crazed, green eyes. "Because of Rowan, I was the second choice, the second best..." Thistle swallowed. A lonely tear crawled its way down his cheek. "But I see you now for what you really are, Crystal. You're scared. You're a scared, lonely, spoiled little noble bitch you wants to be royalty so badly that you would try to trick your way into it." A sob interrupted his monologue that Crystal pretended to be bored with. 

"But now that's going to change," he continued, pressing the blade harder against her throat. "Because I'm going to kill you, and send your corpse back to Mab as a present." His sobs turned to disturbing bouts of hysterical laughter. "I wonder what the look on her face will be..." 

Crystal gazed at him in pity, now that she saw it. "You miss him, don't you?" was all she said for the sobs to return. "You miss your brother." He shook his head, not looking at her as his grip on the poisoned dagger slackened. 

"Garnet," was all Crystal had to say. The one word that held all the power in the world as the dagger fell from Thistle's hand, falling to the ground as he crumpled to the floor of the tent, sobs wracking his body as he hid his face in his hands, tugging at his tangled, silvery blonde hair. 

Crystal slowly knelt in front of him, gently placing a hand on his head. "Thistle, look at me," she whispered. He shook his head and bent forward. He would have slumped to the ground had her shoulder not been there. She tensed slightly but then relaxed knowing, deep down, he was no longer a threat.

"You can be with him, you know," she whispered, calmly, in his ear. "You don't have to go on like this. You can spare yourself the pain of living without him, of exile, or execution," she told him. 

Thistle wept against her shoulder and she almost startled as she felt the smooth neck of something being pushed into her palm. "Please," he ground out, gripping her coat in desperation. Crystal swallowed and tightened her hand around the neck of a broken bottle. 

And with unexpected tears streaming down her pale cheeks, Crystal drove the glass into Thistle's heart, feeling his blood run out onto her fingers, coating her hand in a glove of red. His sobs soon ceased, and when his form stilled and his body iced over in death, Crystal gently lowered his form to the ground, stood, and walked freely out of the tent, the Faux Blood antidote nestled inside her pocket. Real blood dripped from her hand onto the fresh snow, leaving a trail that she did not care who saw behind her.

It was only when she reached the Winter encampment early that evening and was greeted by her shocked mother, that she let herself cry.


	36. Omens & Phenomenons

The warm scent of orange spice herbal tea made Crystal's spirit lift a little. She sat on her cot in her tent, her mother finishing up brewing a pot of her special orange spice tea. If they were in public or at court, the Duchess would never think of performing such a humanly task, but when they were alone, just the two of them, Crystal's mother was a different faery altogether. 

"I am very glad you were not hurt, darling," the Duchess said, turning to glance at her daughter. Her surprisingly warm smile faded when she beheld the expression on Crystal's face. "Well, not physically, at least." 

Crystal could not look up and meet her mother's eyes as the Duchess straightened and approached her. Her mother smiled again and pressed a warm cup of tea into Crystal's hands. She brought the cup up to her nose, breathing in the lovely fragrance. She wanted to tell her mother how she felt, which was odd, probably considering Crystal usually made the effort to feel nothing, as feelings were seen as a weakness among the court of Winter. 

"Darling, you need to tell me who these fey are," her mother said gently, smoothing Crystal's long white hair out of her face. Crystal swallowed and took a sip of her tea. She was glad her mother treated her kindly, even if it would be viewed as too kindly among the nobles. 

When she'd arrived back at the campground early that evening, Crystal had been greeted by her near-panicked mother, who rushed her into her tent with a volley of questions after a guard had taken the antidote to Rowan's tent. Crystal had been silent except for her tears, and after just holding her until her tears slowed, the Duchess had quickly drawn Crystal a bath and began brewing the tea. 

After a nice long bath and a few liquids administers to relieve the tangles in her hair, the Duchess had tried again, more calmly, to get Crystal to answer her questions. "Crystal, dear, tell me..." her mother whispered, gently stroking her daughter's hair. 

"There is an organization of fey, who call themselves the Black Roses, or the Shadow court," Crystal said after a while, her voice raspy from crying. "The Blood Roses are their best soldiers, using fear to win their battles. Unfortunately, it doesn't matter how brave anyone is, any fey can be affected by them.

"Thistle wanted to use them in order to gain power and eventually present his court as an equal and one day as a superior court before Summer and Winter," Crystal told her mother. "He was driven crazy by his grief for his brother, Garnet."

"In the end, his love for his brother was his undoing," the Duchess drew the conclusion, sighing. "That is why I discouraged you from having a relationship with the Prince, Crystal. I-I did not want you to get hurt..." she gave her daughter a sad smile as Crystal watched her mother. 

"Why does this thing exist, Mama? Love, I mean?" Crystal asked. "If all it does in the end is destroy..."

The Duchess shook her head. "It is a phenomenon beyond many people's understanding, dear. We can only do our best to try and avoid or ignore it, even if ninety five percent of the time, that is impossible." She smiled again. "I love you, and nothing can ever change that." 

Crystal allowed a small smile in response and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "We're more like humans than we think, aren't we?" she whispered. 

"Now, I wouldn't go that far," was her mother's only response.

***************

"We must formulate a plan to rid these traitors from the land!" Winterbrey's harsh command clanged through Crystal's ears as she stood to the side of the table, watching those gathered for the meeting in the war tent. 

"We must act quickly but carefully, as we do not yet know the full strengths and weaknesses of this organization," Prince Sage replied, his green eyes hard and lines of tension decorating his face. "If we charge into their camp without knowing their true motive and plan of action, we could all suffer the consequences."

"We already know their motive," Mab spoke up, her voice colder than the coldest night in midwinter. "As Crystal said, they want to eventually rule all of Faery with their Blood Roses. They are exiles and traitors from both the Summer and Winter court who are foolish enough to try and conduct a rebellion."

"Oh, please, there can't be that many of them," Edgebriar laughed in disbelief. "Surely we can just wipe them out like flies?" 

"There are thousands, actually," Crystal interrupted. "I've seen their ranks, and not all of them are traitors." She glared upon the stares of irritation that she would dare speak against a much older, experienced fey. 

"Then what, pray tell, are the ones that aren't traitors doing there?" another Thornguard asked, rather mockingly. 

"One of my mother's guards, Andal, was among them. He said that his company had been ambushed one day while out on a hunt. He was the only survivor and was taken prisoner along with apparently many others. He said quite a few of them are prisoners and have been threatened if they should try anything or leave," she told them. 

"If these fey are being held against their will from both sides, then we need to get to the source of the problem..." Sage commented, frowning. "But if Thistle is now dead, that means they do not have a leader, as you mentioned these Blood Roses only answered to Thistle," he said, gesturing to Crystal. 

A deep quiet enveloped the room. Everyone was thinking the same thing, but no one seemed brave enough to say it. Mab finally spoke up after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. "Unless...there is another. A queen, perhaps." She turned her icy gaze on Crystal. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" She arched one elegant eyebrow.

Crystal shook her head. "Thistle tried to make me his queen, so that we could rule together, but I killed him."

"But did you ever decline his offer?" Mab shot back, something bordering on a sneer and smirk adorning her face. 

Crystal nodded, her heart beating uncharacteristically fast. "Yes, I told him I will never be his queen," she said, which sounded awfully more like a protest. Mab just looked at her like she highly doubted her. 

Crystal didn't blame her. She even doubted herself. 

*****************

Trying to keep her steps as quiet as possible, Crystal walked toward Rowan's tent, intending to ask how his condition was. Two Thornguards were posted outside, as usual, and did not stop her as she hesitated before ducking inside. 

She stopped in her tracks when she saw the prince, up on his feet and washing his face, wearing nothing but a pair of black trousers and short combat boots. Crystal let herself make a sigh of relief and couldn't help her smile as he turned to look at her. 

"I see the antidote worked its magic, then?" she said, irritated at the warmth in her cheeks and her racing heart. 

Rowan donned his usual trademark smirk and snatched a small towel from the nightstand. "Tasted bloody awful, no pun intended, but worked almost immediately. I feel nearly fine, except still a bit weak in the knees, but that's probably your doing." He smiled and winked at her, causing her to blush harder.

She looked away, not able to hide her smile. She felt like one of those human girls she'd seen fawning over men they fancied. "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," she said, clearing her throat and moving to leave. 

A cool hand on her wrist made her stop dead in her tracks and hold her breath. "Crystal, are...are you all right? You're uncharacteristically flighty," Rowan murmured, his cold breath making the baby hairs on the back of her neck below her high ponytail dance. 

Crystal swallowed and took a shaky breath. "I'm mostly fine...just, a bit rattled that's all." She tensed as he ran his hand down her long ponytail, his gentle touch bringing back her old instinct of drawing into herself and away from everyone else. 

"My mother, I assume?" he asked. 

Crystal sighed and turned to face him. "She thinks I am the Queen of the Black Roses, when I clearly told her I declined Thistle's offer. She bit her lip. "I mean...I agreed at first, thinking I could somehow reveal their whereabouts and motives to Winter but then I discovered the numbers and the Blood Roses..."

Rowan nodded; he'd been filled in by Edgebriar earlier after the meeting. "It's a tough choice, the greed for power often overshadowing logic." He smirked and moved around her to light a small covered candle floating in the air. 

Crystal glared at him, her mouth open a little. "You think I was power hungry? Like you should talk!" 

"Yes, I do think you are power hungry, Crystal," he replied, looking at her like it was obvious. "You want power, same as I, so you try to find ways in order to gain it. It's really simple, once you think about it."

She was about to argue with him but stopped. She looked down at her boots and held her tongue because she knew he was right. She had agreed to be Thistle's queen at first because she wanted to know what it felt like, to be royalty. But to be the queen of something like the shadow court? Her stomach churned a little at the thought. She still remembered how she'd felt when she gazed upon the shadowy face of the Blood Roses. 

"Hey," Rowan murmured, taking her chin and gently tilting her face up to look at him. She hadn't even noticed him approach. "That's what I like about you, though. You're ambitious, determined, strong...beautiful-" Crystal rolled her eyes but felt a small smile creeping at the edges of her mouth- "and probably one of the most loyal fey I've ever met."

She shook her head at him. "You don't have to compliment-"

But he silenced her with a kiss, his hands going to either side of her face to cradle it. Crystal let her eyes close and her hands go to his waist. 

He slowly deepened the kiss, running his thumb along her sharp cheekbone. She wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing him closer until their bodies were flush against each other, and under the sparse candlelight, they shared that moment together, experiencing the phenomenon that no Winter fey understood, but secretly craved nonetheless.


	37. Kingdoms United

Crystal remembered the first time she saw blood. She remembered being fascinated by the thick, red substance and wanting to touch it. She had, and it had been warm and sticky, coating her small pale hand like a red glove. She'd started to bring her hand up to her mouth, wanting to taste it. 

Her mother had quickly yanked her hand away, hurriedly wiping Crystal's hand clean of the blood. "We do not drink it," her mother had chastised her. "It is the substance that holds us together, that fuels us, makes us. We do not soil it, Crystallis lesmad Soturi." 

Crystal nodded and never wished for the taste of blood after that. 

*************

The clear, blue sky dappled with only a few wispy clouds greeted their small entourage as Crystal, her mother, Queen Mab, Prince Sage, and Winterbrey made their way to the middle of the battlefield, only equipped with a single weapon each. 

Mab had sent a messenger to Oberon to communicate Winter's wishes of parler. No one had particularly liked this plan when it had been decided on in the war tent, but they all knew it was really their only option, if they wanted to defeat the order of the Black Roses. 

Crystal swallowed and squinted against the bright rays of the sun beating down on them. It was uncharacteristically warm for a day in the end of December, bordering on January. Then again, for a faery who lived predominantly in weather twenty degrees Fahrenheit and below, even forty degrees could make a winter sidhe break a sweat. 

"Do you think they'll agree to the plan?" Crystal asked Sage, who was walking beside her, looking only mildly concerned and slightly bored. She noticed he was also limping slightly, favoring his right leg. 

"Oberon would be wise to. Titania would never, even if it meant for the good of all Faery. She is too wrapped up in her pride to side with Winter," Sage responded, his icy green eyes glinting against the sun. 

Crystal only hoped Oberon would agree. She didn't much like the idea of fighting alongside those who had created a weapon that had injured and killed many of Winter's soldiers, but if it meant saving Faery in the long run...

They came to a stop in the middle of the battlefield, waiting and watching the smaller entourage approach them from the opposite side. Crystal leveled her gaze into one of stony calm, fighting the urge to palm her single knife hiding in her coat sleeve. 

Oberon, dressed in a robe of what seemed like liquid silver and an antler crown adorning his silvery blonde head, came to a halt only a few feet from Mab, who regarded him with her beetle black eyes, calculating and cold. Stepping up beside the Elven King, was a general dressed in gold armor on his left, and the one and only Robin Goodfellow on his right. Puck, standing directly across from Crystal, gave her a small smile and friendly wave. 

Crystal simply glared icicles at him. "Lady Mab, you have sent a messenger to invoke the right of parler, so I assume the topic you wish to speak of is of utmost importance, is it not?" Oberon said, looking down on the Winter queen as if she'd caused him a major inconvenience. 

"One of my soldiers has informed me about a new threat to Faery, Lord Oberon," Mab replied, sending frost over the tips of the grass at their feet. "A threat that concerns both courts."

Puck smirked and crossed his arms. "If this so called threat concerned both courts, wouldn't we have heard about it by now?" Crystal didn't know how he wasn't cold; he was dressed only in brown pants, brown boots, and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Crystal sent a small chill his way, and in response, sweat began to gather on her skin and she had the sudden urge to remove her coat. 

"This threat has only begun to appear, Goodfellow," Crystal snapped, in many ways interrupting Mab, who the question had been addressed to. Yet, the Winter queen only glanced at her with mild annoyance in response. "There are thousands of Black Rose soldiers out their plotting our demise as we sit here chewing each other's asses and wasting time when we could be uniting and saving our home!" 

Crystal snapped her mouth shut when she realized what she'd just said. She swallowed and looked at the ground when she saw all eyes were on her, some aghast, some amused (Puck), and others showing interest. She hadn't meant to say all those things so quickly, but frustration and a slight bit of fear had wormed its way into her mind, making her speak openly. 

"Wait, hold your panties on, Ice Princess," Puck said, holding up his hands. She cringed at the nickname but let him continue. "You said the name of this threat is what?"

"The Black Roses," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "They plan to overthrow both Summer and Winter and rule the Nevernever one day." She spoke these words quieter, as she could feel her mother's almost furious gaze digging into her. 

"Interesting name for an organization," the Summer general spoke up, his brow furrowed in thought. "Black roses generally symbolize death and foreboding. What, or who, exactly, is this organization comprised of?"

This time, Crystal looked to her mother and the Queen for permission to speak. When Mab gave her a slight nod, she said, "both Summer and Winter fey, thought not all of them are a part of the army willingly."

"And how do you know this, Lady?" Oberon's demeaning voice cut through the discussion. "Do you have proof of this?"

"I was kidnapped by their king and offered a royal position, your Majesty," Crystal responded. "I declined and was able to kill their king but learned enough of their motives in the process."

Puck scratched his cheek and frowned. "So, they had a king...and no queen? Surely, these Black Roses have some sort of leader now..." 

"We suspect there is another," Queen Mab said, regarding Puck with a dark look. "Crystal refused the position of Queen offered by their king, but we suspect there is another Queen that we do not yet know of."

Oberon glanced at Crystal and narrowed his eyes. "You say you were kidnapped and offered the position of Queen. Why?" Crystal did her best to harden her gaze under his. 

"Their king was-" she might have finished her sentence had it not been for the black arrow that streaked through the air, landing a hairsbreadth away from Mab's foot. The Duchess let out a startled cry and Sage, Puck, Winterbrey, and the Summer general all drew their weapons. 

Crystal whirled, searching for the perpetrator of the arrow, the perpetrator who would dare try to harm her queen. She didn't see anyone beyond or in the trees, despite her keen eyesight. And then, the screams began. They sounded like they were coming from Winter's encampment; screams of agony and terror. 

Mab fashioned an ice spear with her glamour and began to hurry back towards the camp. Crystal followed close behind her mother, Sage, and Winterbrey as they raced back towards the line of trees where Winter's camp was located. Suddenly Crystal halted and frowned. The screams sounded not only close, but also far away, as if they were also coming from over the hill...

She turned just in time to see Oberon turn and race back toward his own encampment, Puck and his general in tow, and to the hoards of black pouring over the green hills into the Summer camp.


	38. Andal

5 months later

The doe turned her head, her brown ears pricking and her nose sniffing for danger. She smelled the winter faery hunting her, hidden in the brush not fifty feet away. Her black eyes went wide when she finally realized her doom and she sprung, her delicate back legs pushing her into the air. She was too late. 

The white arrow sang through the air, piercing the doe's side, straight through her heart. The doe fell to the forest floor, her eyes wide with defeat and panic. She breathed heavily as the hunter straightened, rising up from her hiding place. The hunter made her way over, the deer kicking blindly now, trying to rise and flee. 

But the doe's struggles were to no avail. A line of thick blood coated her brown fur, and she was losing more fast. The hunter knelt beside the animal, letting her see the glinting knife in her hand. The doe made one last attempt to flee before the hunter drew a thin line with her blade across the deer's throat. The doe finally went still, and Crystal smiled a cold smile. 

**************

Crystal awoke abruptly, a scream tearing through her raw throat. Pain sliced its way soon after, leaving her breathing hard from the nightmare and wincing from the pain. It had been too long that her throat had been injured. Too long that she'd been having repeating nightmares, all of them involving the death of a certain blue eyed prince. 

Disoriented and slightly concerned, Crystal swung her legs out of bed, as she did almost every other night, and slipped on her fleece robe over her thin nightgown. She pulled on a pair of thick socks and carefully made her way downstairs, watching for any goblins sleeping in the middle of the hallway. 

Her stomach grumbled slightly, and a cup of molten chocolate sounded divine right about then. On her way to the kitchen, she passed the parlor, where she caught a glimpse of her mother sitting in her favorite velvet green chair. The Duchess ran her finger along the rim of her mug, staring off into the distance blankly. 

Crystal sighed and continued on to the kitchen. Her mother's grief had not yet driven her into a depression, but it was close. The Duchess rarely got enough sleep nowadays, and when she did it was only after a passionate tryst with one of the four remaining soldiers in their army. 

The silence of the house settled down on Crystal as she fixed herself a cup of molten chocolate, her hands trembling slightly. The grounds were so quiet without all the soldiers about. 

They'd lost everyone except for four soldiers, two of whom had suffered severe injuries. After a couple more days spent recuperating in the healer's cabin, Crystal had met her mother, the three princes, Queen Mab, and the remaining generals in the front yard. They'd decided to retreat, pausing the war with Summer as the turn of events made cause for a war to save their home. 

Oberon had sent a messenger bird with a letter saying Summer had lost most of its army as well, many dead, and many left with such trauma in their minds they could not function. Oberon had had to either send them away or relieve them of their misery. 

And neither of the two courts had been able to figure out who the new, hidden ruler of the Black Roses was. Crystal raked a hand through her hair, which had grown nearly to her backside. She wanted to cut it. She wanted to cut it all off. 

It had been months since she'd seen or spoken to Rowan. Elysium had been postponed, as many fey were still suffering trauma from the decimation via the Black Roses. Elysium was also a public, widely known event. If the Black Roses knew the two courts were meeting....

A sudden urgent knocking alerted Crystal to the front door. She set her cup down and hurried to the foyer, palming her small knife. Tiptoeing to the front door, she nearly held her breath, thinking one of the Black Roses had found their home. She unlocked the door and placed her hand on the doorknob, slowly turning it. She opened it just a sliver, peeking one blue eye out.

A soft brown eye filled with fear and sadness greeted her, blinking away the falling snowflakes. She opened the door wider and wished she hadn't. A winter sidhe stood there, huddled in a thin cloak, scars decorating his face so it was nearly unrecognizable. His left eye was a pale, milky white color, an indication of blindness. 

Crystal frowned and let out a breath. "Andal?" she instinctively held her knife tighter, afraid he might try something. He was a winter faery after all, and deception was one of their strong suits. 

Andal nodded and swallowed hard. "May...may I come in? Please?" he asked, his voice sounding so small. He implored her with his one good eye.

"What do you want?" Crystal asked firmly, not opening the door any wider. "How do I know you weren't sent here by them to murder us?" Apparently mention of the Black Roses did not set well with Andal. Pain struck his face and he shook his head, fighting off what must have been a sob. 

"They did this to me!" he cried, pointing to his face. "I tried to escape, but they caught me, tied me to a tree with iron chains and drug it all over my face!" He swallowed, shaking his head again. "They stabbed an iron screwdriver through my eye..." He looked at her once more, meeting her gaze. "I can't lie to you, Lady Crystal."

Crystal contemplated his story, looked at him one more time, and opened the door just wide enough so that he could slip through. He let out a sob of relief and stumbled over the threshold. Crystal then also noticed he only had three remaining fingers on his left hand. 

"Come on, I'll brew you some tea," she said, turning back toward the kitchen, although still keeping an eye on him. 

"Crystal, what is the commotion?" the Duchess swept into the room, her black robe covering her nightgown tied tightly around her body. She stopped short when she saw Andal. Crystal halted and regarded the dark circles underneath her mother's eyes. The Duchess's face masked itself into one devoid of emotion as she slowly stepped toward Andal, who was now trembling slightly. 

The Duchess stopped a mere inches away from Andal. She gazed at his ruined face a moment longer, never blinking once as he seemed to cower in her presence. Crystal only heard the slap before Andal's face snapped hard to one side. 

"How dare you come back here, come into my house, and speak to my daughter when you are one of them!" The Duchess spat out the words like they were foul tasting in her mouth. "How dare you step onto my land and try to return," she said quieter, although no less deadly. 

Crystal watched as Andal cowered, his face crumpling. He didn't lift a hand to his reddening cheek and did not meet the Duchess's eyes. "Mother...he seeks asylum," Crystal said, breaking her mother's trance of glaring a hole into the sidhe's head. "I let him in."

After a long moment the Duchess slowly turned to face her daughter. Chills crept up Crystal's spine as her mother slowly stepped toward her. She anticipated the strike, so when her mother's hand came up to hit Crystal, she snatched the Duchess's hand by the wrist. "He escaped from the Black Rose. They tortured him, both physically and mentally! He never wanted to be a part of the organization, either!" Her hand tightened on her mother's wrist, near to the point of snapping the bone. The words spilled out of her in an angry torrent. 

"And before you ask how I know this, I saw him when I was kidnapped. He told me about the fey who were forced to join the Black Roses. He was one of them. We can't lie, Mother." She loosened her grip ever slightly. "You know that." 

The Duchess's face would have made any other fey wet themselves in terror. Her eyes were wide with fury, the whites shining in the moonlight pouring in from the window and making her look almost feral. She wrenched her arm from her daughter's grasp and snarled, "if you ever touch me like that again, Crystallis lesmad Soturi, I will freeze your throat shut so you may never speak again." 

With that promise, the Duchess whirled on her heel and left the room, not slowing, and not looking back. Crystal sighed and looked to Andal, who'd finally stopped crying and took to wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Upstairs, Crystal had a bath drawn for Andal, and while he bathed, she called for a cup of mint tea, not wanting to leave him alone and unattended. She didn't fully trust him yet. He glanced at her uncertainly as he scrubbed his arms, rivulets of water dripping off his pale skin. 

"I'm not leaving, if that's what you're expecting," she said, sort of snappy. He looked away again and continued his bath. When he was done, Crystal held out a white towel for him. When he simply stared at her, still submerged up to his neck in the tub, she rolled her eyes. 

"I've seen men naked before, Andal. Now, stop being such a prude and dry off. Your tea is ready," she said the last part a bit gentler. Hesitantly, he rose, a bit of water splashing off the sides of the tub. Crystal kept her eyes on his face and shoulders as he dried off with the towel. 

"There's fresh clothes for you, as well," Crystal told him as she walked back into the room, the warm fire crackling in the fireplace and sending a warm orange glow throughout the room. Andal followed and picked up the clean clothes that lay on the bed. He hesitated before slipping them on. Crystal watched idly from where she lounged in a chair. 

Scars lined his back as well, a striking contrast to his already pale skin. When he was done, he sat down in the smaller chair beside her, taking up the warm mug of tea in his hands. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered after taking a sip. He finally looked up and met her gaze. 

"You're mother - Her Grace - was so angry at my coming here. Why are you being so...?" he struggled for the word and Crystal smirked. 

"Nice? Because I believe you, Andal," she said, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "I believe you never wanted to be a part of the Black Roses. I believe you." She smiled and then rose. "Get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow." 

Before she could walk away, Andal took her hand in his, loosening his grip when he felt her tense. "Thank you, Crystal," he whispered, allowing a small smile. Crystal watched him for a moment, then gave his rough hand a small squeeze before letting go and leaving the room.


End file.
